Not Every Gentleman
by HLBr
Summary: Edward Bennet is an excellent son to his father, and an excellent brother to his sister Jane. But, what about Elizabeth? Very AU. Comments both positive and negative very welcome.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Edward reined in his horse with a sharp movement, five feet or so after the place he usually stopped. His mind elsewhere, he handed control of the animal to the young groom. He jumped up the stairs of the front of the house and went in directly to the drawing room, not even considering freshening himself up. He hoped his sister would be alone, but if she was not, he would make his excuses.

As it turned out, she was alone, embroidering something or other. Her face lightened with a pleased smile when she saw him, and she lost no time in setting her work on a side table.

'Edward, you are back at last! I did not know were you had gone to, and my father took great pains to inform me that it would be of interest for me to find it out. Of course, he insisted that _he_ would not be the one to tell me.'

'Oh, Jane, of interest indeed.' Edward could not avoid laughing at her perplexed face as he kissed her cheek and sat beside her. 'Would that my father be for once wrong! But I am deathly afraid that he is right in this case.'

'Why? What has happened?' Her interest increasing, her face had lost her usual sedateness.

'Nothing, my dear, sweet sister. Please do not be alarmed; I am only taking great pleasure in teasing you. Nothing grave at least; if anything, I bring good news, not bad.'

'The best of news, as some in this neighbourhood would say,' came Mr. Bennet's voice from the doorway.

Startled, Edward turned to where his father now stood, smiling; that seemed to prompt him, and he entered and sat himself in a comfortable chair a little away from them.

Jane resumed her work, and Edward could tell, by the care she took with each stitch, that she was as annoyed at their stalling as Jane could be, which was, when it came down to it, only slightly.

'Well, Jane, I take it that you have heard the superb good news from our Aunt Philips? Do you know that Netherfield is let at last? It turns out that, thanks to your own dear brother, you will be one of the lucky girls that will have first-hand information about the gentleman leasing it.' Edward adopted a pompous tone and then continued, saying, 'No, please, do not thank me yet, not until I have at least related the important details.'

Jane, who had moved to do no such a thing, only smiled wider and lowered her eyes.

'His name is Mr. Bingley. Do you not think it a very agreeable name? I certainly think so; it _should_ be so, as he is a remarkably agreeable man. Indeed, I am surprised that such an overall pleasing man, with such gentlemanly manners and handsome countenance, is unmarried still. I can only hope the local matrons realize their luck, and count their blessings, because I am sure it will not last.'

'Is he to be married then?' asked Jane, and Edward had to check to make sure she was not teasing _him_ then, because it did not seem possible that she fell for his raillery.

'Indeed, for though I do not know the gentleman overmuch, I know he will fall in love with my dear sister, and being he all that a gentleman ought be, you are sure to fall in love with him, and the both of you are, without doubt, to be married by the end of the year!'

'Edward, I do not know Mr. Bingley!' Jane's voice contained no little amusement, but it had a scandalized note all the same.

'Details, dear sister. I have yet to meet a man that does not fall in love on first seeing you. Though in this case, it could pose a problem. He has made the horrible mistake of bringing with him'—he made a pause then, and waited for Jane to raise her eyes to his—'a friend.'

'A friend? That does not seem so very horrible.' Jane seemed determinate to ignore his insinuations and was working again.

'You have yet to meet him, Jane, you cannot know. But I was not referring to his friend in particular, as you well know, just at the unfortunate event in which the two gentlemen would fall in love with you at the same time. This particular fellow's character would make it a far more difficult eventuality, though. You should choose at once and then I could warn the other away.'

'What do you mean?'

'What, having trouble with 'choosing one', are you?'

She blushed, but answered nonetheless in an even voice, 'How would his character make things more difficult?'

'He is a dour fellow, Jane; he did not laugh at even one of my jokes!'

Edward could perceive then a tiny shake of his sister's curls, and continued on, now sure he was not off mark.

'So, then, Jane, talk to me. I would have thought you to prefer a charming, agreeable fellow over his serious friend any time, but I should ask. Women's hearts do work in mysterious ways, and you could both have a secret weakness for a romantic hero and imagine it embodied in this curious man.'

'Perhaps,' said Mr. Bennet, unable of remaining aloof and silent any longer, 'you should wait until they meet your sister. It would not be the first time that men are silly enough as to not to recognize something of value at first sight. You might be lucky and avoid a duel if only one of them falls for her.'

'Should I be so lucky! Should my luck be as good as you make it sound, my sister would not have been born as beautiful as she is, and her remarkable saintly soul would remain forever stuck with me instead of marrying and going away to put up with another man's capricious nature.'

Jane was blushing at this, and Edward wondered again how she could remain so modest and good under such unrelenting praise. She did not speak. She would not, of course, censure both her father and brother, even if they bothered her exceedingly.

'We could make a wager,' said Mr. Bennet. 'I have always been one to trust in the silly nature of my neighbours.'

'I could not take advantage of my ageing father in such a way, I having all of the information and he none.' Edward leaned back. 'I have met the gentleman in question, and though in both could be found some weakness of character, I do not think them as silly as _that_.'

'Not as silly as that? Can that be taken in any way as a compliment? Come, Edward, behave yourself, and quench you dear sister's thirst for real information of the gentlemen. What you have spoken until now can hardly be considered news. Are they rich and handsome? Would they be silly enough as to fall in love and marry into any Hertfordshire family besides our own? The truly _important_ subjects you have yet to touch upon.'

Jane kept her eyes on her work, but her fingers had stopped moving, and her whole body gave to Edward an impression of expectancy.

'Very well,' he said. 'If I must, I will do my duty as the neighbourhood's matrons' spy. They are both rich, of course, although I am given to understand that Mr. Darcy—the friend—is richer by far. He is the master of some great estate up north; Pemberley of Derbyshire, if I am not mistaken. I would conjecture they are worth around five thousand a year one and ten thousand the other, though for his pride I would have guessed double and a Peerage to boot.'

Mr. Bennet looked smug as he replied. 'That only shows me that you have still plenty to learn from your 'ageing father', as you put it. Some experience in the world will teach you that excessive pride is not only to be found in those individuals where it could be understood and excused. Indeed, how boring life would be if that were the case, for where would the two of us find our entertainment if people would behave exactly as good reason shows that they should?'

Edward grinned. 'Mr. Bingley is, as I have already said, excessively handsome in a pleasant, not overwhelming way. He shows a remarkable desire to please and be pleased with everybody and everything that certainly brings to my mind another person of our acquaintance.'

As Jane said still not a word, Edward shared an amused look with his father before continuing thus–

'Mr. Darcy is very tall and very serious, and I am afraid that he disproves of me for some reason.'

'And, patently, you of him!' Mr. Bennet cried.

He observed Edward over the fingers of his crossed hands, and appeared to be excessively diverted. 'You have not even granted him half his friend's agreeableness, my son. Is he so very handsome that you begrudge him already the ladies' attention?'

'I must grant anyone would find him handsome, if only because he is very rich. I am certain that the matrons will agree.'

And to Jane's look of disapproval, Edward replied, 'Oh, Jane, you know it is true! But if I am to be sincere and abstain myself to facts—present facts—then I have to say that I do not remember. We spoke very little. But I am certain the ladies need not to worry; I am perfectly certain that Mr. Darcy is the handsomest man this side of Hertfordshire, if not one with the most engaging manners.'

'Edward, what will you do when Jane here chooses the disagreeable one, I wonder? You have already raised our interest in him so much, that it can only be the natural outcome, you know. You would have done much better in keeping quiet about him and making his friend much more interesting. 'Agreeable', you describe him, and you say of his friend 'tall and brooding'; I wonder if you know the female mind at all.'

Edward grimaced. 'I did not say brooding. In any case, I do not care a jot of the female mind. Jane's mind, my sister's mind, I know much better; I am sure she would not be as silly as that.'

'I admire your faith,' said his father seriously. 'I am not so sure of myself and mine as to think them completely devoid of silliness.'

'If you had met the man, then you would not be so eager to surrender Jane to him, even in jest.' And then, even though he knew he was being made sport of, he could not avoid adding, 'He is not as very interesting as all that. He is really a very dull fellow.'

Jane then spoke, her sweet voice holding only a hint of teasing in it, 'You cannot dislike the man already, for his manners in your only meeting. Perhaps he was having a bad day, or he was, as the very best of men are wont to do from time to time'—and then she smiled and caught his eyes with hers—'in a sulk.'

Edward could not help laughing then. 'Indeed, sister, though I believe you are teasing me. It is most strange, you never do it.'

'You never have any need of it,' said Jane.

Their father then stood up and went to the door, and Edward could tell he had tired of company already, and was going to shut himself up with a book for a while. His tone was nonetheless good-humoured when he said, a foot on the doorway already, 'He has not. Neither of you will have any need of it while I am around, for I am sure I provide more than enough of it for any person!'

Silence reigned for a while after their father had gone. Jane concentrated on her work, and Edward stood and paced, first walking one way and then the other. He felt restless, but he did not know why; he had almost decided to ask for his horse to be saddled and go outside again when his sister spoke.

'Edward, is something the matter? You have something on your mind, I am sure. Come and sit by me again, and tell me; you will wear out the rug if you keep up like this.'

Edward did not even make the attempt to sit.

'I have told you already everything. There is nothing the matter. Mr. Bingley seems a very pleasant fellow and we are much taken with each other. At least, I have taken a liking to him and I think he has taken a liking to me. I think I can make him out, he does not seem deceitful in his manners…'

'I am sure you can,' said Jane, and he could see she was trying to hold back a wider smile. 'You are usually very perceptive and a very keen illustrator of character.'

'I can see you are laughing at me, but upon my word, I do not know why.'

'I am not laughing.' She doubted a moment and then continued, 'It is that lately it is very easy to forget that you are younger than me, but just now you were so anxious that you were the very picture of a little boy, and I remembered.'

Edward frowned. He could not like the fact that, at the age of twenty, he still had occasion to put his sister in mind of a child.

'Go on,' Jane urged him, 'I did not want to interrupt you.'

'I do not know what I wanted to tell you anymore.' He was sure it sounded as he was sulking, but his sister's comments did not serve to put him at ease. He sat down by her again; he felt ridiculous, and tried to laugh it off—to reclaim at least the semblance of dignity.

'Jane, do not worry so much. I am only restless, and Mr. Darcy's rudeness has discomfited me a little. I cannot understand why Mr. Bingley is his friend at all. But it is unfair of me, I know, and if I am ever to deserve your goodness as my sister I should try to imitate you a little. I know I never could have your natural kindness, but I promise to give the man a chance.'

Standing up again, he continued speaking without giving her a chance to respond or detain him in any way, saying, 'I think I will go riding before lunch, Jane. I shall try to spend all of my excess energy, so you will not have to stand my dreadful manners this afternoon, as well; although I do think we can blame them to this unseasonable weather, and so they are not my fault at all!'

And he hurried away before she could wish him a pleasurable ride.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two**

It was only a couple of days later, as Edward had predicted, that he and Mr. Bennet had the pleasure of Mr. Bingley's company again. He made the call alone, and although Edward was expecting it and would not say anything about it to Jane, he could only feel that his first impression of Mr. Darcy would continue to confirm itself if left to its own devices.

Mr. Bingley was in good spirits—again, Edward felt that their first meeting was representative of their respective characters—and not only reiterated the invitation for an afternoon of shooting, but pressed it, in what Edward felt was the most charming manner.

'You must come! We plan to go out the day after tomorrow as I have to go into London in the interim. We are only Darcy and myself, as my brother-in-law usually prefers the indoors. Darcy is lately in such a dreadful humour that I am sure only our combined efforts would be able to overcome it.'

Though Edward had no particular wish to do anything with Darcy's humour but ignore it, he acquiesced almost immediately, as he had never thought to decline. He had been looking forward to it and furthermore, it was out of his power to deny the amiable Mr. Bingley anything.

They were then alone in the library, Mr. Bennet having left them at their own devices after tiring of the interminable talk of horses. Bingley was inordinately pleased with a mare he had lately obtained for his sister, and parallels had to be drawn between the animal and all the others that either of them had ever owned.

'I do think she is a better choice for Caroline than the last gelding she owned. It was a much larger animal…' Bingley's voice trailed off, and the stupidest smile Edward had ever seen graced his face.

With a sinking feeling, Edward turned around to find before him a most charming picture: through the window, Jane could be observed collecting roses from the garden. Both the light and the occupation served to show her at her most attractive; if Jane had not been already a beautiful young lady, the situation would have depicted her so.

Edward waited impatiently for Mr. Bingley to return to his senses, until not a moment too soon he appeared to snap out of his daze and sheepishly return his attention to his host.

Not a person to rejoice in being ungracious with his fellow man, Edward offered with a smile, 'She is my sister, Jane; if you are so inclined, I could probably manage an introduction.'

The fact that his sister would appreciate the new acquaintance was the only thing that spurred him forward. Despite his jokes, or perhaps because of them, he had the inkling that it was, indeed, a most momentous meeting. They would fall in love, and Mr. Bingley would carry Jane away from him. The only positive thing about it was the fact that not only Bingley was a pleasant fellow, but he hopefully would not carry her farther than Netherfield.

Bingley agreed most readily to the introduction, and Edward, hoping to derive at least a little amusement from it, decided to go out to the garden to meet her, instead of sending for her with a servant. The only sure way of discerning his sister's first reaction to the gentleman would be to catch her unawares.

To Edward's immense disappointment, Jane was only imperceptibly discomfited when the gentlemen approached her. She did blush a little when Mr. Bingley asked for the first dance at the Meryton Assembly—scheduled for more than a week later—and she could not stop smiling even after the gentleman made his excuses and went home, which proved to be ammunition enough for her brother when he returned to her side.

He basked in the still warm autumn sun for a while before speaking.

'So, Jane, is my friend to your liking? Can I rest easy and warn Mr. Darcy away before he sets his eyes on you?'

Jane made as if to ignore him and continued filling her basket with flowers, but Edward could not let the matter stand.

'You may cease attempting to turn that pretty smile into a frown, sister, as 'tis quite impossible for you. Speak to me. After all, I am not only teasing you! Is not Mr. Bingley a pleasing man? I do not think you could find a much pleasanter gentleman without him being a great fool as well, and Mr. Bingley is no fool, I assure you.'

That, at last, got an answer from her, delivered with her eyes still on the long stems of the rose bush.

'I do have your leave to like him, then?'

'I have yet to meet a person you do not like, but if that blush was anything to go by, then I will answer that yes, you do have my leave to like him, as if it were not too late already to prevent you; or, indeed, if I dared to stop you.'

'I have yet to know of something you do not dare do, Edward.' His sister's voice was warm with amusement.

'Well, there you have it, then; I do not dare to put myself between you and your considerable kindness towards the rest of your fellow human beings. Though, as I said before, you cannot distract me from the fact that it cannot be mere kindness that makes you like Mr. Bingley. There was a telling blush staining this maiden's alabaster cheek just now, and you will not be able to make me forget it.'

'You never forget anything. Edward, behave; do be serious for a change. Are you going to befriend Mr. Bingley? I do think it a good idea. You must tire of the talk of lace and gossip. Even of my father's books, I am sure you have by now had your fill. Mr. Bingley seems a very good sort of man, and he is nearer your age than any of the other gentlemen of the neighbourhood; he is sure to do you good.'

'You overestimate gentlemen's habits of conversation, sister. I am certain there is quite a bit of gossip going on in those as well. But you are right, of course. Having someone to go hunting with–someone who enjoys it instead of putting up with it for my sake–will be a pleasant change.'

'So you will go out with him this week?'

'Yes, I will, in two days' time. And if you are good, which you are sure to be, I will try to bring Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy both along later; you will finally see them side to side and compare them at your leisure. Perhaps after that you will be able to set my mind at ease and choose the most agreeable one.'

'You make it sound as if they were both mine to choose, Edward.'

Her sedateness was discouraging, and Edward found himself almost wishing for the confusion that love would certainly bring her. He missed those days when she would blush after even the most innocent teasing. The way the years had inured her to it was frustrating to say the least. It spurred him on to being more and more outrageous.

'One of them is yours for sure already, and despite anything my father will say, I am certain that if anything is capable of bringing the proud Mr. Darcy to his knees, it is your beauty.'

She did blush then, profusely, and her voice had a hint of pleading when she said, 'But I have no desire of bringing anyone to his knees, Edward. What is the problem? Are you so desirous of my being gone already?'

He was kissing her hand in an instant, regretful.

'Oh, Jane, do excuse me. I do tend to say the most stupid things when I want to get a reaction out of you. I am in the most strange of humours lately. You must know that I do not desire you gone; it is quite the opposite, actually. Come, let me carry that for you. Let me keep you company while you arrange your flowers. I have not helped you in a while.'

'A while! Several years… Well, then, you carry it, but keep away from the flowers. You were never very good at it, and it is not a very appropriate occupation for a gentleman anyway.'

They proceeded into the house, where Jane set to work filling several vases with artfully arranged roses. She alternated between paying attention to her work and casting tender looks at him, and when she finished, she asked him to help her distribute them through the house.

The perfume in the shadier interior of the house brought to Edward's mind happy childhood memories of afternoons spent helping Jane make rose water and of the laugh filled conversations they used to have while they worked, but they did not cheer him; he felt grimmer than ever.

They finished in his room, where she placed the largest and more cheerful of the bouquets. She turned then to him, suddenly saying, 'Edward, you do know that you will always be the dearest person in the world to me, don't you? Even if I marry, you will be always welcome in my home.'

'I appreciate the sentiment, Jane, but I am afraid that my welcome would be the prerogative of your husband.'

Edward almost flinched at how bitter his voice had sounded.

'I would never marry someone that could not love you as well. And besides, you make it sound as if you will be all alone in the world, while I am quite sure that the second some pretty young lady catches your eye, you will forget everything about your older sister.'

'No, Jane. I do not think I will ever marry.'

'Never marry? You cannot be serious! You are quite handsome, and although sometimes you do seem too witty for everyone's sakes, I daresay there must be some women that can appreciate it. My father married, after all.'

Her teasing smile finally coaxed one from him, and he felt it hovering on his lips despite himself. He was not made for gloomy thoughts.

'No, sister, 'tis you; you have set such an unprecedented standard that no woman can hope to reach it, not to mention surpass it. No, I will remain single, and kidnap my nephews and nieces every once in a while, and spoil them rotten.'

'It will be a very happy day indeed when I will be able to relate these same words to your wife, Edward, or even to your children. Even you will be able to laugh about it then.'

'If indeed that were to happen, then I would find it amusing now. I can laugh at myself, you know…But I am quite determined, and you will have to agree with me on this. I am not fit for marrying.'

'Not yet, perhaps, but I am tempted to tell my father you need a season in town.'

'You think the city air will do me good?' asked Edward laughingly.

'No, indeed, I think that some broader society would. The new neighbours are a beginning, but if they do not work in bringing you to your senses, then I am afraid I will have to act.'

'You make me sound positively wild, sister. I do think you want me to have some more contact with fashionable ladies, with all that talk of 'broader society'.'

'You have said it, not I. But yes, I do think it would do you good. It is a shame the Netherfield party does not have any ladies.'

'Have I forgotten to mention it? How remiss of me. There are, in fact, two ladies now residing in the manor house of Netherfield. Both are sisters of Mr. Bingley; Miss Bingley is to keep house for her brother and Mrs. Hurst is visiting, along with her husband.'

Jane's voice was as sly as he had ever heard it. 'It is most curious. Anyone would say that the presence of ladies would be one of the first things you would relate to your sister. Have you seen them?'

'Now I can see, you are suspecting something, Jane. I will not allow it. There is no conclusion at all to be drawn of this most trifling oversight on my part. I have yet to meet any of them, so you can erase that smug look from your face before you say anything.'

'Oh, you may cease being so defensive this instant. I have the right to tease you a little, you know, after all that you make me suffer every time I meet a gentleman, or even every time you meet a gentleman. You must allow me to have a little fun. Besides, you like the brother well enough, who is to say that you will not like the sisters?'

'They cannot be as agreeable as he. We have daily proof of this; you and I, sister, cannot be more different.'

'You think so?' Jane was smiling at him most innocently before continuing, 'But you will not distract me from my subject. Be the sisters as unlike Mr. Bingley as you and I are, you can still like them very much. Indeed, I have never thought you matched with anyone resembling my character.'

'How many times have you thought of matching me?' asked Edward, alarmed. 'I can, perhaps, like them; we are still to meet them, so any further speculation is useless. In any case I like plenty of people, if not as many as you do, and I do not love anyone except you and our own dear father. I will carry my point in the end. Mark my words: I shall never marry.'

'Oh, Edward, you can be as mulish as you wish if it makes you happy,' said Jane, smiling. She then kissed his cheek and retired from the room—it was the first time Jane did not finish a discussion by agreeing with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Edward woke up inordinately early that morning, and the first thing he remembered was the appointment to hunt with Bingley. He could already feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He went through his mornings ablutions with efficiency and was on his way, without taking any breakfast, before any other person in the household could realize he was up and about.

He set out walking; he had plenty of time before he was expected at Netherfield. He made his way, as he preferred on his morning walks, rambling and stopping every time something drew his interest. The day could not be brighter or more pleasant; the trees were greener than he had seen them in a long while and the birds sung liltingly.

He was almost inclined to laugh at himself and at the absurdity of this sudden and completely ridiculous good humour, though not quite.

When he finally came upon the great house, the butler was expecting him and directed him to the breakfast room. There, he only saw the two gentlemen who were to go hunting with him, and neither hide nor hair of the rest of the party.

Bingley received him with an exuberant welcome and invitation to breakfast with them, and noting his curious gaze, observed jokingly that not everybody appreciated the benefits of making an early morning.

Darcy barely acknowledged his presence by the slightest nod, and with a short phrase, expressed his gladness in having his company. He did not appear to care that his frown seemed to belie his words, and Edward was sorely tempted to ask if hehappened to be one of those persons that did not like to have their morning's sleep interrupted.

Nevertheless, Edward's cheerfulness could not desert him when he was in so agreeable a company as Bingley's, and so he gladly accepted the invitation to partake with the gentlemen of the fare generously laid out. They ate a little and drank a copious amount of tea before heading outside.

Darcy's humour, and consequently his manners, improved as time passed, and as Bingley had hoped, the cheerful meandering talk of the two younger gentlemen seemed to distract him of his gloom, if not actually to entice him to be more outgoing himself.

Edward and Bingley walked together, discussing favourite guns and current fashion for hunting weapons. Darcy brought in the rear, only a little ahead of their men and Bingley's young pointers, until they had lost sight of the great house completely and sent the dogs ahead.

'I still appreciate Manton-style flintlock guns, especially if they have rifled bore. But wait until you try mine, you will see that the percussion cap is much better. Besides, it need not be heavier, 'tis quite the same as a Manton-style in that regard,' Edward said.

Bingley readily agreed to look it over, but he was adamant that each of them use their own guns.

'I cannot part with mine,' he said. 'I do think that choosing the weapon is almost as important as knowing how to shoot accurately.'

'But will you not try it?' Edward asked, perplexed. 'How will you know if it is better or not this way?'

'I trust your word, of course, and I will see you shoot with it today. If I ever want to try the new lock system, I will order one for myself.'

'It is better! I managed to acquire several, you see, and pulled them apart. The principle is the same, only the substance used to make the initial ignition is more powerful. My father was worried while I was experimenting with it, as it explodes with a stunning ease. I simply cannot understand how it is that is not the most used, as it is certainly more effective.'

Uncomfortable with Darcy's silence and inscrutable expression following his rather enthusiastic speech, Edward made an attempt to draw him out and said, still addressing himself to Bingley,

'Do you think your friend thinks meanly of my opinions on the subject, or only of my manner of expressing them?'

'Darcy?' Bingley asked, smiling at Darcy in amusement, 'Why do you ask?'

'Perhaps I am merely unused to having so silent a companion. I thought that we may be boring him.'

Darcy opened his mouth as if to speak, appearing somewhat disconcerted, but then he quickly shut it closed again. He looked back at Bingley rather plaintively. Only after several seconds did he find his voice.

'Not at all. I only find that I have no fixed opinion on the subject,' he said at last.

'No fixed opinion? This is dreadful,' Edward said. 'A gentleman who does not know the best length and size for the double barrel, or whether indeed he would choose the double over the simple one? What are we to discuss now that you have barred us from this subject?'

'By all means, keep talking about it. It is all the same to me,' said Darcy with some harshness.

But once Edward had glimpsed a chink in the armour, as he fancied the moment of uncomfortable indecision had been, he was not likely to let Darcy retire behind a façade of indifference again if he could help it.

'No, no, it will not do. The subject is dry enough as it is, but if only Mr. Bingley and I will be speaking, I am afraid it will be rendered completely dull. I will state my most outrageous opinions, and he will, if not agree with them, grant them their validity without discussion all the same.'

'I see you know my friend well enough.'

'Am I right then? You are his friend of long standing, Mr. Darcy, and so I ask you: is Mr. Bingley as obliging a fellow as I paint him?'

'Indeed, in most cases, he is.'

Edward could not imagine a more frustrating man; he had never met anyone so determined to not help a conversation along. For his part, Edward was determined to make at least one more attempt, and so he asked in a broad manner, 'Were you at Cambridge together?'

As it perhaps was to be expected, Bingley was the one to answer.

'No, we were not. Darcy had left already when I was 'capping the quadrangle'. But I knew ofhim at Cambridge. We shared some acquaintances and they have told me a thing or two.'

Darcy's eyebrows had shot up at the last phrase, but rather than seeming angry—as Edward had feared for a second—he arched his brow in amusement.

'Stories?'

Edward was as curious as Darcy, but he offered no remark. Experience had taught him that an unassuming air of perfect indifference could often provide the means of hearing something interesting.

'Well, not stories, per se; more like the general report of your notoriety.'

'I hope they are not tales of infamy; we would not wish to leave an unfavourable impression of you and your friends on your new neighbour.' Darcy said, his tone still carrying a hint of warning even as he smiled and leaned carelessly back into a tree. He had not forgotten Edward's presence.

Bingley laughed then and it took a little while before he could bring himself under enough control and speak. Edward did not know if the cause of this was the mere idea of Darcy's being infamous or that the gentleman thought it necessary to give a warning about it at all; Edward certainly found both excessively diverting.

'Darcy here,' Bingley said to Edward when he was finally able, 'was renowned for his prowess at fencing, but certainly he was most famous for arranging to box in a case in which a duel had been proposed. It became all the rage after that. They used to say that he had made it so because he was a good student of Jackson's, but did not care for pistols one way or the other.'

Then Darcy's man approached them, as was not only one dog pointing out birds for netting, but several others were backing it up. They sent him to flush the fowls and spread out.

Some moments and several deafening bangs later, Edward was pleased to have shot a brace, and seeing that more than those two birds had fallen, looked about his partners to see what their luck had been.

Bingley was horrified by his mode of expression. 'Luck, you say? It requires no more luck than what it takes to earn the heart of a woman.'

Darcy was extremely amused at this. 'Bennet, it would be better for you to know that you cannot disparage shooting in front of Bingley.'

When Edward tried to protest, saying that he had not intended to do any such a thing, he added, 'Then it is better to clarify some things before we continue.' There was a definite twinkle in his eyes when he enumerated with mock seriousness, 'First, there is no luck involved in the sport at all, it is only skill; second, when you insult the weapon, you insult its master; and thirdly, Bingley isalways the better shot.'

Bingley looked sheepish then, and said, 'I met Darcy at a hunting party, much as this one. The host was the man who told me the previous story. So at the first opportunity, I tried to tease Darcy into admitting he was a poor shot; I have yet to this day no idea why he took a liking to me anyway.' He finished with a look at Darcy, who was aiming himself to a stray bird, appearing not to have heard, and finally lowered the gun without shooting it.

They then set about recounting the birds. Bingley patently tried not to gloat, but he had bagged five, three more than the others' two. Consequently, his smile was somewhat condescending while Edward and Darcy quibbled over who had killed the stray bird for which neither could account. Each was sure it had been killed by the other.

They walked rather slowly while speaking, and encountered several flocks in hiding, and although they shot them in a desultory fashion, they bagged a considerable quantity of game.

Edward had time to prove Darcy's assertion of Bingley's superiority to his ample satisfaction. The only potentially interesting competition could be between Darcy and himself. And it was indeed interesting for Edward, for he had a definite chance at winning.

Nonetheless, Edward feigned a fashionable indifference, as it soon became clear that Darcy could not be less moved by the supposed contest. He announced his killings and listened to those of Edward's, but the comparative results could not hold his interest.

Bingley, perhaps realizing that Darcy's attitude was disconcerting their new friend, set out to try and rouse the gentleman's interest. What better way of doing it, but to tease him? Indeed, Edward knew no other method that could be expected to work.

'Darcy, old man,' Bingley said one of those times, 'it is not sad how the new generations displace the old ones when their time has passed?'

Darcy smiled but said nothing. He motioned for his man to send the pointers to flush some nearby bushes, and stood ready.

Bingley made no motion to imitate him, and Edward observed him with some curiosity, until he spoke.

'And so I see, I know what's causing you to miss so often, Darcy.' Bingley's voice was mirthful, and Darcy made no movement, though Edward had begun to think that he was always listening attentively. ''Tis your posture; you're always so stiff, it's a wonder you can move your arm to aim at the necessary pace to shoot two or three birds for each flock!'

Edward had to bite back a incredulous laugh, but Darcy merely kept his position and shot at the two fowls that emerged at the dogs' barking; the second one fell.

Only after the bird was down did Darcy turn towards them, and then Edward thought he could perceive that he was really offended. Nevertheless, although Edward could not fathom what compelled him, he added, 'I have always considered it wise to keep a stiff upper lip in the face of bad luck such as this.'

Bingley laughed, and Darcy lowered his face. Edward was thrown into some confusion regarding Darcy's possible reaction, but when he raised his face again, his countenance was serene. When he spoke, his voice was as indifferent as before.

'Undoubtedly.' he said passing them his flask. 'Though what is wise and what is possible are two different things. I for one have always considered that a stiff upper lip could not be expected from boys that could not yet grow hair over it.'

Edward felt his smile widening in spite himself, and had to concede the point.

In the end, Bingley stopped shooting, arguing that he had done more than his share of the work already. He, from then on, used his keen eye to count the birds that the other two were bagging, keeping an exacting tally and remarking that it was just his luck that, when he most wanted to laugh, the performance shamed neither friend.

They had packed a light repast and eaten it, but by early afternoon the gentlemen were all hungry again. They were, by this time, so well into Netherfield's lands that Edward invited them to Longbourn to partake in some refreshments, as it was the shorter walk. The other two looked at each other, and Darcy appeared as if he was about to decline, but Bingley was swifter.

'Of course we would love to, but only if you are certain it will not be a disturbance to drop by unannounced.'

Edward reassured them readily of the welcome of their presence for tea: Jane would be waiting for them, since she had already been warned of the possibility of their coming. Only then Darcy did acquiesce, while still looking unconvinced. So they made their way to Longbourn after sending their men to Netherfield with the firearms and a message designed to allay any fears their prolonged absence could cause.

Edward had issued the invitation without thinking, and now he began to doubt its wisdom. Jane was, indeed, expecting them, but he wondered what he would do if Bingley and Jane paired themselves off and he was left to make conversation with the other gentleman. It had been uncomfortable enough while shooting, when they had other things to occupy themselves with, but sitting in a parlour with a tea tray? It would be unsupportable.

It was, nonetheless, too late to change his mind. With any luck, his father would be there and exert himself to talk to the gentlemen, but he could not really expect it of him on such short notice.

With that in mind, Edward approached Darcy while they were walking. After a few minutes of silence during which even Bingley seemed lost in pleasant reveries of a private nature, Edward ventured to say–

'So, was this outing your idea? Do you enjoy shooting a great deal?'

In the silence that followed he cringed at his double mistake. Not only did he ask inane questions, but he also directly contradicted all that he had just learned about the gentleman. He almost exhaled in relief when the answer finally came.

'I… the estate is dreadfully neglected, so I pointed out to Bingley that the situation could only encourage poaching.'

Then another silence followed, so long that Edward thought no other word would be forthcoming when Darcy finally proved him wrong.

'I enjoy shooting, although I prefer fishing. I confess I find little to enjoy in sport without company, so I take advantage of circumstances such as these whenever I am able.'

The words seemed dragged across Darcy's lips against his will. This proof of the other's apparent timidity emboldened Edward who, making his tone as light and uninterested as possible, continued thusly–

'I know that the waters on Netherfield are a sad business, but there is a stream on the other side of Longbourn that has a fair share of trout. I have not been there in a while and my father is less and less inclined to stir from his study these days, so it must be well stocked. What say you to an afternoon of fly-fishing?'

'I am afraid that Bingley loathes the sport, as it is a too quiet a pastime for him,' Darcy replied, with a smile that took the sting out of the rejection.

The smile became him so well, that Edward could not avoid smiling as well as he answered, 'Well, we could make it a picnic and invite our sisters as well, and then I am sure he will not be so averse to it. I am sure Jane will be almost as pleased to see him as he will to see her.'

Darcy then regarded him with an undecipherable expression and said in a noncommittal tone, 'We shall see.'

All conversation seemed to an end at this, but—Edward thought—they were arriving in any case.

Jane was indeed waiting for them when they did, and she lost no time in sending for a tray. It was not, at least at first, as uncomfortable as Edward had feared.

The occasion of introducing Darcy to Jane and vice versa gave plenty of opportunity for smirking knowledgeably to the latter, and the looks Edward received in return were more than worth the trouble of making conversation with the former. She faltered while speaking when she found Edward looking at her, and coloured deeply at the most innocent comments Darcy made.

Until Mr. Bennet joined them, the conversation remained superficial. They all but Darcy had expressed themselves as looking forward to the Assembly, and thoroughly analyzed the strange weather that they were having of late.

Mr. Bennet's first words after the customary greetings were to inquire about the outcome of the afternoon's sport; and after hearing the appropriately humble answer, to ask, 'So, who is the best shot of the three?'

Edward looked over to Bingley with some alarm, but he was speaking to Jane contentedly and not paying any attention to the proceedings in the other side of the room. It was up to him to make an appropriate answer, as Darcy was staring resolutely out of the window, where he had placed himself a moment before.

'Bingley… that is Mr. Bingley is, I think, the best of us. I did not see him waste one pellet.'

'Is that your opinion as well?' Mr. Bennet asked of Mr. Darcy, forcing him to turn around to answer.

'I… yes, although your son is very good as well.'

'Well, he ought to be. I spent an ungodly amount of hours teaching him.'

Edward wished there was a way to extinguish the twinkle in his father's eyes. To be discussed as a child, in front of Mr. Darcy of all people, was beyond humiliating. He forced himself to smile and speak pleasantly.

'Oh, I do not think I am very good, but then the exact quantity that 'ungodly amount' means is probably somewhat skewed by the fact that you hate the sport, Sir. Mr. Bingley is perhaps a more objective judge; I am certain he would agree with me that Mr. Darcy is the better shot between us.'

Edward was exaggerating, but then, his only objective was to turn the conversation, and so he continued, 'But I see he would not appreciate the interruption; he appears to be very much absorbed in his conversation with my sister.'

'What an obliging group of young men!' cried Mr. Bennet, now his amusement thoroughly evident. 'Should I ask Mr. Bingley, I am sure both of you would be better than he by far.'

Edward had to hide a smile then, as he thought Darcy would not appreciate it, and so was quite surprised when Darcy responded, laughter as evident in his voice as it had been in Mr. Bennet's.

'I do think you are mistaken, sir—if there is anything Bingley is proud of, it is his shooting. He would not dare in any way to discount it in front of a lady. He is of the opinion that ladies admire men's prowess in sports, if I may express my own personal view, more so than they really do.'

'Trying to impress my daughter, Mr. Bingley, is he?'

At hearing his name at last, Bingley turned toward them and politely asked the question to be repeated. Both he and Jane blushed profusely when they heard it, and he stammered out a reply, speaking thus –

'I… we were talking about the theatre just now.'

Edward took pity on them both, and immediately sought to take advantage of the possible change of subject, asking after the subject of the play and whether any of the men had seen one of beloved Garrick's last plays. Mr. Bingley had, and that conversation did hold Mr. Bennet's attention. He approached the couple to speak of the actor's advancing age and possible career choices and of who could be expected to carry his torch when he was unable to continue, leaving Edward and Darcy alone on their side of the room.

Edward got up then, and approached Darcy at the window. He looked through it with pretended intensity, and then spoke, affecting a serious tone,

'By God, although I have tried, I cannot see what it is so interesting in my garden.'

Darcy did not answer directly, but rather waited a moment and afterwards, looking fixedly at Edward, said, 'So now I am the better shot?'

Edward felt all the embarrassment that afternoon's childish behaviour deserved, and answered civilly. 'I do think we were evenly matched, and perhaps if we exchanged guns you would be the better.'

'I see you have not been listening to Bingley; the choice of the gun certainly gives the hunter credit.'

They were looking in each other's eyes then, quite by accident, and Edward felt his colour rising, until they were startled by Bingley calling his friend to say his goodbyes and head to Netherfield with him.

Edward was relieved, and in a second understood how convenient was to look out the window at an uncomfortable time, as he was trying to get his countenance in order before having to attend to their leave taking.

He was surprised again when he saw Darcy's reflection bending down slightly over him and heard him say, in a low voice, 'Perhaps we will have to choose another sport to settle who deserves the most credit.' And in another moment, he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

After more than a week of constant talk of lace and the handsome neighbours, the day of the Meryton Assembly finally arrived. All ladies, young and old, were agape; the general emotion was high, and the gathering was loud. Then, at the Netherfield's party rather impressive entrance, and much to Edward's humiliation, all conversation abruptly stopped—taking with it any chance of Hertfordshire's making a good impression. If he had not been so vexed he would have laughed.

Jane, he could tell, had been unaccountably nervous and was having difficulty concentrating in the conversations around her. To all others, even taking into account her distracted demeanour, she must have appeared the most collected person in the room. Barely a hint of pink was present on her cheeks when Bingley came to lead her to the dance.

Free then of his duty to her, Edward approached the rest of Bingley's party and was greeted politely by Darcy, who introduced him to the rest. There was an older gentleman, a Mr. Hurst, who was rendered squat and red-faced by copious amounts of food and drink; and with him two very elegant ladies. One of them was Mrs. Hurst, the other Miss Bingley. Edward could not help noting that the latter lady was very beautiful, and as different from her brother in demeanour as he had predicted. She was dressed considerably better than any other lady in the room and the way her eyes took in her surroundings made it obvious she knew it.

The ladies observed him with initial curiosity but appeared to find him lacking in some respect— income was Edward's guess—quickly enough. He could not be angry by it, he was happy to be left to try to further his acquaintance with the gentlemen, especially Darcy, as Hurst seemed content to be left alone with the wine.

At a loss for a topic, and wary of saying something foolish, Edward initiated the conversation by inquiring after the Netherfield party's recent activity. Had they taken advantage of the good weather, he wondered aloud.

'Indeed we have,' Darcy answered, and then with a slight smile he added, 'Although it is hardly our fault, as there is nothing at all to do but go out. Bingley quite neglects his library.'

Edward had to smile at that critique. 'Myself, I have stayed in all but once. A visit to some tenants was my only good excuse for a lengthy ride. But then, I do not miss any exercise but my morning walk when I am cooped up. I suspect I am very much like my father, to whom a good book is the be all, end all of earthly comforts.'

Darcy raised his brow. 'I would not have thought it. Are you then more attached to the sports of the mind than those of the body?'

'Why, are you that surprised?'

'Only slightly, and that only because that was not what I have come to expect from Bingley's friends.'

'You have expressed such a preference yourself, if I am not mistaken.'

'Yes, I have.'

'And are you not Bingley's friend?'

Darcy smiled at that, however faintly. 'Very well, Bingley's other friends,' he amended.

'Are they all so very silly?'

Darcy looked elsewhere then and did not respond, and for a moment, until he realized Darcy was hiding the widening of his smile, Edward thought he had offended him.

He took courage from this and continued, saying, 'Ah, I see you will not answer. Very well; it would hardly be polite to say anything more. You must allow me to take your silence as a yes.'

He was satisfied with his own management of the conversation, but he did not know quite how to continue. His gaze wandered freely about the company while he racked his brain for a subject. The din that filled the room stifled all easy conversation. Everywhere, couples flirted. Matrons watched with knowing smiles, and, before Edward knew it, the phrase was out of his mouth.

'Your friend is quickly becoming a favourite, or he would be if he had eyes for any lady besides my sister. As it is, the fact that she is from Hertfordshire is compliment enough for the company.'

'He is a favourite wherever he goes.'

'Is that so? Do I detect a note of envy?'

The last phrase drew a sharp look from Darcy, but his voice when he answered was as inscrutable as ever.

'Why should it be? Every temperament has its drawback.'

'But you like Bingley's, or you would not be his friend.' It was more a statement than a question, and Darcy did not say anything in response.

After a little while Edward began again.

'Is it not curious,' Edward asked, 'how we all seem to be attracted to a particular character, even though objective observation would not deem the match so very wise?'

'Not always, I am sure. Although the rules of human attraction indeed may seem mysterious and random at times, and I agree that Bingley and I are somewhat superficially mismatched as friends, it seems to me you and he are not. It could simply be that a character like Bingley's cannot help but attract, regardless of the other party's personality.'

'Not always indeed,' said Edward, deeming it impolite to show more interest into Darcy's character. 'He and my sister seem to like each other, and they are undoubtedly well matched in character. Jane, too, makes only friends wherever she goes.'

Darcy's tone was amused when he said, 'And you have innumerable enemies, do you?'

'You would be surprised,' Edward admitted, and then, because Darcy seemed sincerely taken aback, smiled and added, 'Not many and not precisely enemies. Although I am easy enough in company, I do not care to ingratiate myself to others; I lack Jane's goodness and patience, as I am sure you have noted.'

Miss Bingley, who had by that time wandered to their side, intervened then. With some coldness, she said, 'Young gentlemen find the oddest things about which to boast. You are much too young to have enemies, Mr. Bennet, and much too…' she seemed stumped then and Edward, who had felt himself flush a little when she had begun speaking, supplied with feigned nonchalance the following sequence,

'Handsome? Intelligent? Pleasant? ... No? None of those? Pity…'

She blushed then; silent, as she was in that moment, with surprise in her eyes instead of cold displeasure, Edward had to concede that Miss Bingley painted a surprisingly pretty picture. She seemed both younger and more vulnerable.

They were looking into each other's eyes with what initially was enmity, but soon became something else—what exactly Edward would have been hard pressed to fix upon. Of course, the moment could not last. Miss Bingley broke the enchantment by speaking.

'Why, I never! You must think very highly of yourself!' she huffed before returning to her sister's side.

And with that, Edward was left wondering what she had originally planned to say. He was much too… what? Indeed, he hardly knew his own mind.

A moment later, Darcy's voice broke the silence, startling Edward out of his reverie. 'I can see now that you have yet to learn to distinguish the ladies who will welcome your flirtations from the rest.'

In contrast to his words, he did not look displeased, but rather amused.

'I know perfectly well the distinction,' said Edward, 'but one does not always flirt with the same intention. It would make the world rather boring. I did not expect to be well received just now, but I do not see why that should have stopped me. It proved entertaining for you, did it not?'

Darcy indeed appeared most amused and observed, 'Do you always measure your decisions by how much diversion you will derive from them? She is Bingley's sister. You want to be his friend. It hardly seems productive to provoke her.'

'Is that why you tolerate her company?'

'She is never disagreeable to me,' Darcy pointed out.

'You are definitively correct there,' Edward said under his breath, because then Bingley approached them with Jane on his arm. She looked flushed, and also the happiest Edward had ever seen her.

Jane remained at Edward's side while Bingley took Miss Goulding to the floor, but her eyes followed him, and the smile did not leave her face all the while. Bingley, too, often looked past the other dancers at their corner, and even once had to be reminded of the steps by his patently vexed partner. It was strange; Bingley had proven himself a remarkable dancer just before.

Edward did not know what to say. The previous topic was out of the question and so were the surroundings, as his sister had never shown such inattention in all her life. He knew neither how to call her attention back without embarrassing her, nor what subject he could safely introduce with such dissimilar people as interlocutors. Darcy, his gaze lost somewhere between the room's walls and the window opposite them, did not seem inclined to help him.

Instead, it was Jane who saved him.

'Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley tells me you have a younger sister,' Jane said, only a slight blush giving away her discomfiture.

'Yes, she is not yet out.'

'Ah.'

Mr. Darcy appeared to regret the curt tone almost immediately and continued in a more pleasant one, 'She is staying in London, at the moment, with Mrs. Annesley, her companion.'

'You must miss her,' said Jane.

Darcy smiled and acquiesced, 'I do miss her, though we write frequently and profusely.'

'I cannot imagine being separated from Edward for such a length of time.'

'Oh, Jane.' Edward felt the compliment keenly but nevertheless could not help teasing her. 'That is what you say now, but you forget how you felt just yesterday. I am sure there are moments during which you could not wish me far enough.'

'Indeed, there are no such moments; even when you are your most teasing unsupportable self, you must resign yourself to have your sister by your side.'

Edward could see Darcy watching them with interest, but he remained silent, so Edward decided to take advantage of the lull in the conversation to excuse himself, as he had yet to take anyone to the floor.

He could already envision the tongue wagging he would unleash if he acted differently than it was his wont; if the matrons had missed his encounter with Miss Bingley, they were surely not missing the cold glances she sent his way now.

Edward had always enjoyed dancing immensely, ever since his sister had taught him when they were younger, and she, too, had delighted on it. But tonight, something was different. Although she performed flawlessly, Jane seemed to lack her usual spirit. Edward could not help asking when they found themselves by one of the refreshment tables again.

'Jane, what is the matter? You seem distracted. I hope my teasing has not made you uncomfortable with the gentlemen. I will perfectly understand if you are not interested in either of them.'

He could see her blush and she followed with her eyes the movement of the figures on the dance floor to stall her answer, taking the time to compose herself. When she finally spoke, it was of another subject altogether and in a tone that was both light and playful.

'I have yet to speak with Mr. Bingley's sisters, but he has said he will introduce me later on. They are very elegant women, are they not? Miss Bingley especially, is your age, and yet there is such an air of gentility and confidence about her; and she is such a beauty.'

Edward refused to answer the obvious raillery. A pressure on his arm made him turn to her again.

'Forgive me, I forget, brother dear, that I am not allowed to tease you.' She smiled, her twinkling eyes crinkling at the corners.

Edward had to suddenly bite his lip to avoid laughing. 'Indeed, though my father would have trouble recognizing you as one of his children if you would not.'

Then Bingley appeared at his elbow, immediately asking their leave to introduce Jane to his sisters, who were, apparently, 'very anxious to meet her.' When Jane accepted, he guided them to the ladies.

To Edward it was obvious that they were anything but anxious to make the acquaintance, their eyes more assessing than friendly when perusing Jane's person. Hence he could not be more surprised at Miss Bingley's amiable tone, when she spoke thusly—

'Miss Bennet! I am delighted to make your acquaintance; my brother has spoken so much of you!'

Jane could only blush and express similar feelings. The conversation continued on this vein for a while, all praise from one party to the other, and though Edward was looking for it, he could not now detect any falseness in the elegant lady's manner.

The conversation soon bored Edward, especially since Miss Bingley appeared to be pointedly ignoring him. That lady addressed Jane with an exclusivity that disarmed all attempts on Jane's part to include him in their exchange.

Finally, he thought it best for his sister's sake if he went away. The necessity of making up his previous neglect to the Lucas party was as good an excuse as any, and even gave him the chance of dancing, which he did, with both Charlotte and Maria. Darcy seemed to follow his example and asked, not only a set of each of the ladies of his party, but one of Jane, as well.

Bingley, impeded by politeness from asking Jane again so soon, was quickly the favourite of matrons and young ladies alike. He did not sit out even one dance, and Edward, whose amusement was complete at the fulfilment of his own prediction, could barely talk to him for a moment between the two fifth and the two sixth.

'You are determined to please everybody, Bingley.'

'Indeed, why should I not? I have never seen more lively people, more pleasant music or more beautiful ladies in my life!'

'And the feeling is returned, I assure you; all of Meryton could not love you more, except perhaps if you would marry one of its girls before midnight.'

Bingley laughed then, and said, 'I do not know what Darcy has been telling you about my character, but I am not as rash as all that.'

'Then if I were you I would take care of the wine I am drinking; the matrons look positively feral.'

Darcy was standing a few feet away from them sporting a sour expression, and Bingley, winking at Edward and motioning in his direction, said, 'Oh, I am not afraid of them, or of marriage. I will know when the time for that is come. Besides, I know perfectly well the difference between looking to please everybody for a night and looking for someone to please for all nights to come.'

'Why, Darcy does not?'

'He refuses to give consequence to anyone unnecessarily, and that includes unknown young ladies in a dance. He prefers to be bored to tears than to do it.'

'Perhaps dancing does not give him pleasure, and so it is not a sacrifice.'

'I am sure you are right, but why does it not give him pleasure? It is because he sees it as an obligation to be met rather than an amusement.'

'Or perhaps he is afraid of the matrons.'

'Darcy, afraid?'

'Far greater men have run in terror,' answered Edward with a snort.

'Perhaps you are right. I have never met anyone so determined to deny his family the pleasure of his settling down.'

And he was gone again into the set.

So good was his humour that Edward even considered for a moment asking Miss Bingley for a set in an attempt to make peace with her, but that course seemed unwise, as the lady in question had not stopped looking daggers at him all night.

Even in the midst of such a gathering, it seemed to Edward that the fact that they did not direct words to each other was obvious to anyone who cared to look, and he was sure Jane would.

She would question his incivility later, with her customary gentleness, showing at most a faint disappointment in his behaviour, but provoking nonetheless the stirrings of his conscience. Even though he still could not see how he might act to resolve the situation before it was too late, he was sure to see it later. It did not help in the least that Miss Bingley was unfailingly polite and even very kind to Jane, and the perfect lady with everyone else.

Before the end of the evening, Jane had been asked a second time by Bingley, a circumstance which was probably the reason for the silly smile she sported all the way back to Longbourn. It took all of Edward's self-control to refrain from teasing her so as not to risk upsetting the delicate balance achieved earlier.

It probably helped that he was in excellent spirits too, as Darcy had at the last moment sought him out.

Hurriedly, and in an oddly formal tone, Darcy had said, 'I seem to have been remiss in answering an invitation. If it is still open, when do you think it would be a good time for a picnic?'

'Well, the weather has been unseasonably warm, but I do not think it will last. Midday tomorrow or the next day, not much later. Do you have your fishing gear with you in Hertfordshire? I cannot imagine Bingley has rods enough for even one person if he so dislikes the sport.'

'I do not have it, no.'

'Well, then, I believe I have enough for the three of us. I hope you will not mind the length of my rods; I fear I favour Mackintosh's style for trout fishing,' added Edward with a twinkle in his eyes, as he remembered Darcy's indifference to pistol makers. He wondered if Darcy was one of those men who could not care less about the technical aspects of the sports, or if he could be drawn into a discussion if the sport was one he favoured.

'I'm sure they will do.'

'They will do! They are excellent, I assure you.'

Darcy seemed unimpressed. 'Bingley, you, your sister and me, then?'

'I think you seem to be forgetting part of your party,' said Edward with a smile.

'Yes, of course…' Darcy seemed a trifle flustered for his mistake. 'Although I doubt the Hursts and Miss Bingley would find it pleasant.'

'Nonetheless, it would be remiss of us to not to invite them. But barring that, yes, tomorrow…?'

'Yes, tomorrow. I will ask the rest of my party, of course, though I doubt they will appreciate the exertion on the morn after an assembly.'

Edward nodded, and Darcy took his leave without further delay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 **

The sunrise promised a day of amazing warmth for the autumn; it was perhaps a little late for it, but Saint Martin's Summer had yet to grace them that year. Watching the sky that morning, Edward thought it probable that it heralded a storm, although he expected that the actual bad weather would delay at least a day, and in every other respect he found it a perfect day for a picnic.

Midday brought the expected Netherfield party, with the _un_expected addition of Miss Bingley. Longbourn's was only formed by the Bennet siblings, as Mr. Bennet considered such exertions more a hint of folly, or youth, or both than any reasonable exercise.

They took off as they had planned, on foot, with two servants to carry the food. They had not walked three feet when Edward was already showing Darcy the fishing gear he had brought for both.

Jane and Mr. Bingley were behind them, the latter talking in low tones to the first, and holding effortlessly all her attention, with Miss Bingley walking close to them, appearing not too pleased with the situation.

Before long, they had arrived to a nice place with a gently stooping, grassy hill overlooking a small embankment in the stream. There were some trees giving shade not too close to the water, and the party broke up according to each person's preference. Bingley, of course, decided to keep the ladies company in the shade rather than to go down with Darcy and Edward.

The latter two were already armed with their fishing rods when Miss Bingley's declaration of her desire to watch the proceedings up close arrested them.

'I have always wanted to see how it is done and never had the chance, we living in Town and Charles disliking the sport so much.'

The fishermen exchanged a look but decided to keep their silence. They nodded politely; went down, placing themselves at a comfortable distance apart from one another; and then each began to bait their hooks. Edward could not help turning for a moment to watch Miss Bingley observe their surroundings with distaste and hesitation; she clearly did not know what to do with herself.

Edward had to keep himself busy–and Darcy appeared to follow a similar strategy–to avoid laughing out loud at the woman. He was not a little surprised when she at last sat on the grass between the two gentlemen and daintily covered her legs with her skirt. He would have thought she would have chosen to sit farther from himself and closer to Darcy, although he eventually began to suspect that Miss Bingley's attentions toward himself were part of her larger scheme for holding the other man's attention.

Although at first she held _Edward's_ attention quite easily by her folly, he soon grew absorbed with the sport and his thoughts wandered into that curious limbo where they were wont to go when little or no rational effort was required of them.

It became clear then that Miss Bingley did not expect to be ignored. Not ten minutes after having settled, she spoke thusly–

'Is this not a pleasant afternoon, Mr. Darcy?'

He answered her with utmost civility, if quite shortly, 'Indeed, it is.'

It was not a moment later when she tried again. 'How uncommonly well you hold the rod, Mr. Darcy! I do not think I have ever seen such skill.'

Edward was severely tempted to laugh then, and a look at Darcy showed him similarly afflicted. Nevertheless, Darcy's tone was perfectly serious. 'I do thank you, madam, but I think that must be due to you not having ever seen the sport up close.'

Edward looked at her, and tried to see if she was discomfited at all, but it was evident the lady could not be deterred when she said, her voice earnest and confident, 'Oh, no! I am quite sure you must be very good at it; I doubt your natural pride would let you do anything in a less than proficient manner.'

Edward could not help it, and let out a snicker, being barely able to reduce it to a smirk afterwards, lest it became a full out laughing fit capable of scaring off all the fish. Miss Bingley looked at him then—up and down with derision, as usual—and said, 'Others may laugh, but Mr. Darcy is all a man ought to be. He may hug himself.'

Edward thought it unwise to clarify that the source of his mirth was not Mr. Darcy after all, mindful of the discussion—or the lady—becoming too loud for the activity. He kept his gaze steadily on the water, and his lips sealed, despite the millions of retorts that sprung to his mind, and his desire to look at Mr. Darcy's countenance in order to ascertain how he was taking such wholesome praise.

Mr. Darcy, too, clearly thought it more politic to keep silent; he behaved as if he had not heard at all.

A few minutes later, when Edward had begun to think that his self control would not be tested any longer, Miss Bingley spoke again, saying in a shrill voice, 'I think there must not be any fish in this stream, Mr. Darcy. We best desist in trying to catch what is not present.'

Edward thought it was beyond any saint's restraint to contain himself any longer, and therefore answered in the sweetest tone he could muster, 'Though I am sure Darcy and I both love your company and the dulcet tones of your conversation, I am afraid the fish have no such a taste. Therefore, if you still want to stay by the stream, it will have to be in silence. I am afraid this is not a very entertaining sport for the observer.'

She coloured a little and said in an offended, though low, tone, 'I am sure I can be as quiet as you.' And from there on she kept a tight lipped silence that effectively put a damper on any further conversation.

They were called to eat by the others before too long, however, and Edward had the pleasure of seeing his sister as happy as she had shown herself at the assembly. Her eyes were lowered to hide her expression, but her constant smile and rosy constitution betrayed her. Although the latter _could_ have been blamed upon the relentless heat that continued to besiege them, Edward was certain that it was not so.

Bingley, on the other hand, was enviably cool and collected, lying down with his arms behind his head. His legs were completely stretched out in front of him; a lazy smile played on his lips while, from under heavily lidded eyes, he observed the approach of the fishing party; he was the picture of indolence, and seemed to feel their plight not at all.

Edward was relieved, as under the sun he had begun to feel very much like a softly boiling pot. Under the shade of the tree it was a little fresher, and a breeze could be felt, both proving very agreeable. He could see Darcy, too, lamented the existence of his cravat—or, at the very least, the presence of ladies, which prevented him from divesting himself of it—in the way he tugged at it when distracted.

'You seem a bit warm there, Darcy,' Bingley said, not moving an inch. 'You would much better stay in the shade from here on. Have you caught anything?'

Darcy answered in a curt tone, 'You can very well see we have not.'

Edward let himself drop like a rock besides his sister, while saying, 'The fish are avoiding us.'

Jane smiled, but did not answer, and instead busied herself passing the simple fare around, which consisted principally of fresh fruit, wine, cheese, and meat. To Edward everything looked delicious, and he and Darcy ate–and drank–heartily. Soon a pleasant grogginess settled over the whole party.

Bingley was the first to speak, and he did it with what Edward was learning to recognize as mischief, saying, 'Caroline, did you know that Mr. Bennet plays the pianoforte exquisitely? And you were so sceptical about finding a fellow musician in this part of the country!'

Miss Bingley looked shocked, and Edward, sitting up, proceeded to protest. 'Bingley, even if I were not aware that you have just spent a while with my sister, that remark would have made it obvious. You must know that a sister's praise is very hollow, especially from one as excellent as Jane. I am afraid she will find her brother without fault no matter what the subject.'

Bingley smiled, good-natured as was his wont. 'If she praised you, she must be right. You will not paint her a liar in my eyes.'

'You ought to at least to hear me play before speaking so to all and sundry of my talents, or you will do me the great disservice of rising the general expectancy so much that my performance, as unpractised as it is, cannot but disappoint.'

'Perfect, we shall insist upon hearing you at the earliest opportunity,' said Bingley.

And Darcy added, 'And we shall enjoy it, I am sure. You may make a great show of humility, but you have agreed to play for us without any prompting, which shows that you must be proud of your performance.'

'If you take into account my vanity and my shameless character, then I am afraid you will reach a much different conclusion,' said Edward with a laugh.

Bingley, apparently observing that his sister had not said a word, spoke to her again, asking, 'Do you not think, Caroline, that a man's performance will give our soirées a _je ne sais quoi_, a certain original elegance?'

Caroline coloured, and before she could open her mouth to answer, Edward hastily intervened, trying to avoid any overt confrontation between the siblings. 'I am quite certain it is considered very unfashionable in the London circles.'

'Nonsense, Edward; everyone would be delighted to hear you play,' said Jane, her voice full of conviction and obvious affection.

Miss Bingley's gaze met Edward's for a moment before she lowered it again. Her voice was subdued when she finally spoke. 'I am sure I shall.'

Bingley was in high spirits, telling one or other anecdote of his numerous acquaintances, trying, quite obviously, Edward thought, to make Jane laugh. He could not know that it was practically impossible with so many people around and no intimate relations either. She did reward him with a widening of her smile now and then, and once Edward could discern she had to make a real effort in containing herself.

Edward observed them with careful consideration, and he was shocked to see their relationship much furthered than what he had expected. He saw his sister tremble when their hands brushed when passing around the food, and looks into the other's eyes that lingered much more than what was proper. Curious, Edward looked around to see if anyone else realized the seriousness of the forming attachment, but Darcy was much more concerned with observing the sky and Miss Bingley was sullenly staring at the patterned fabric upon which they sat.

After something like an hour of rest, Darcy and Edward went down to try their luck for a while longer; this time Miss Bingley stayed under the trees, complaining about the effect the sun would have on her complexion. When the fish finally began to bite, Edward could not avoid thinking that somehow they knew that said lady was no longer in the shore waiting for them.

Both of them, too, were easier, and in consideration to the sweat now drawing a winding path down their faces, and seeing that the ladies were being well entertained far from them, of mutual accord, they decided to remove the outer layers of their clothing, leaving them both in only their linen shirts.

Darcy was the first to speak afterwards, commenting, 'I am finding it extremely disagreeable that we planned this outing as a familial picnic.' Grinning wickedly, he continued, saying, 'Had this been a sporting expedition, the two of us and Bingley at the very most as the whole party, I am sure the fish would have been already snared and in the baskets, and we could have been bathing in this same moment.'

The water did seemed tempting, but the picture Darcy presented was, for reasons better not dwelt upon at the moment, somewhat disturbing for Edward.

He smiled before saying, 'I could not have joined you in any case, as I never did learn how to swim. My father was very fearful in my infancy, and insisted that the current in this pitiful stream would have been much too dangerous for me.'

'I could have taught you. If the current ever was, indeed, too strong for your arms, I am sure it is not now. Or by any chance are you afraid of the water?'

Edward felt sure he had never seen Darcy in so mischievous a humour; and replying in kind was easy when the possibility of having to act upon the words was remote at best.

'Me, afraid of a little water? Never!'

'Especially,' observed his companion, 'since the water will at most reach your neck.'

Edward kept his eyes on the surface of the water, his face warm. 'Indeed, especially since it is so.'

'Aha,' was Darcy's triumphant cry, as he began to reel the line in, a large trout fighting for its life at the other end.

The day's outing finished a little later, when the clouds that had heretofore settled for sending them nasty looks from the horizon covered the sky and made it a pressing matter to find shelter. The temperature dropped, and they stood shivering, at least a good half of the party not wanting to part.

Both fishermen had been successful, but Bingley invited the Bennets to taste Darcy's last catch at dinner. Edward was torn, a part of him wanting to accept. He looked forward to the prospect of furthering his acquaintance with Darcy; but, on the other hand, he also wanted to check somewhat Bingley's relationship with Jane. It was moving rather too fast for his liking. In the end, the look of delight that suffused his sister's features upon hearing Bingley's invitation won out, and he accepted.

After so much time standing around, Fate seemed to think they were taunting it, because the clouds finally made good on their threats; halfway to Longbourn, the sky opened and it began to rain in something more akin to a torrent than to a light shower. The rain fell in thick sheets that made looking beyond two feet almost impossible, and drenched them completely in an instant.

The sudden turn of the weather was surprisingly diverting to everyone but Miss Bingley. They all made such a picture, sodden and dirty, that the others could not help but laugh. Even Darcy, after his initial worried reaction, cracked a smile or two. Any such pleasure that Miss Bingley could extract was, thought Edward, overshadowed by the fact _they_ were laughing at _her_ too.

It helped, thought Edward giddily, that it was a most expedient way of relieving their bone deep weariness and fever-like heat.

They separated at Longbourn, vowing to meet later for dinner at Netherfield.

The Bennets changed, and Edward asked for the carriage while they communicated their plans to their father. He, of course, acquiesced, but not after expressing disappointment for having lost the spectacle of the fine party wet through.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

When Mr. and Miss Bennet arrived to Netherfield, the local party was already dressed and waiting for them in the parlour. Mr. Bingley's eyes brightened when they were announced and he went to Jane's side immediately. Although the couple's reunion was an understated affair, Edward was certain that everyone could tell how inordinately glad both parties felt upon finding themselves in the same room again.

As for the rest, Mr. Hurst played solitaire and barely raised his eyes from his game to give the new arrivals a polite welcome; Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley spoke contentedly to each other, and although both likewise observed the polite niceties required of them, neither one showed much interest. Miss Bingley, for her part, did puzzle Edward exceedingly, as she managed to refrain, in spite of her coldness, from making any disparaging observation on either Edward's person or his character. He was not certain if that boded well.

When they entered, Darcy was standing with his back to the room, poking at the fire that had been lit in consideration to the colder weather the rain had brought forth. He turned around the moment he heard Bingley's effusive greeting, and made his way to them with affability.

Nevertheless, at the dinner table, the conversation was directed and dominated by the hostess and her sister. Mrs. Hurst was suddenly very interested in the Bennet family, and no vague answer would satisfy her.

'Dear Jane tells me you have several uncles, Mr. Bennet; where do they live?'

'Only two uncles, to be sure, Mrs. Hurst; one is an attorney here in Meryton and the other lives in London. Although perhaps you also mean my father's cousin that lives in Scotland; we do call him uncle.'

'Scotland, how charming! And your uncle in London, where does he live?'

'He lives with his family in Gracechurch Street, madam.'

She looked faintly horrified by this admission, and he felt a vague satisfaction in adding, 'Near Cheapside.'

Miss Bingley well nigh gasped, but Mrs. Hurst recovered her equanimity quickly enough, asking, 'And what does he do?'

'He is in trade, but I know not what kind of trade. He is my late mother's brother, and we do not keep much in touch.'

Darcy and Bingley looked faintly bored by the interrogation, and Darcy finally intervened turning the subject to more congenial subjects, like the weather.

They were halfway through the fish course when Jane began to feel faint, and though she insisted it was nothing, a room was readied for her in case it was only a brief spell that would pass with a little rest. Later it became obvious it was _not_ a brief spell and that she was best not moved.

Bingley was eager to have them both stay, and although Edward felt he should decline, his preoccupation with Jane was such that leaving her, even for a night, was insupportable. Bingley, too, insisted. What if Jane would ask for him?

They sent a note to Longbourn with the carriage, and a room next to Jane's was readied for Edward.

That very night, Edward found himself pacing outside Jane's door, unable to sleep. He felt worried, and useless, knowing there was nothing at all he could do until morning, and probably nothing he would be able to do even then.

To and fro he went, every time he reached a wall turning around and going back again. He had worked himself into quite a state when he came face to face with Darcy, who was just coming up the stairs. Edward started; he had thought everyone asleep.

In a low voice, Darcy said, 'Ah, there you are, Bennet. Come, you cannot help your sister now. In fact, you are probably only keeping her awake. We are playing billiards downstairs.'

Edward did not really want to leave Jane's side, but seeing that he was keeping only her _door_ company, he saw the wisdom of some distraction, and so he relented.

As he could have predicted, he was as restless in the billiards room as in the hallway. Lack of concentration would surely hamper his already shaky game, so he chose to watch, instead.

Bingley, rather distracted himself, nonetheless attempted to joke and tease Edward out of his silence, but as he never received more than monosyllabic answers or a single smile, he soon gave up. Darcy seemed focused on the game, although when he was not directly involved, he looked over at his companions frowning, with what Edward interpreted as an expression of concern.

After several games—Edward could not to save his life say who had won, or how, or how many—Bingley retired to bed, guessing aloud that the earlier they did so, the faster the morning would come. Edward, however, was so wide awake that he could not see the wisdom of that pronouncement.

Darcy remained behind, keeping his silence while serving both glasses of brandy. Then he handed him a cue and said, 'Come on, this will help you not to think so much.' And a little while later with a smirk, 'By God, you are worse than Bingley!'

Edward, who was not keeping count this time either, but did not doubt he was the loser, owned, 'Probably not much worse tonight than every other night. I have played but little.'

'I will have to give you lessons, then. You are no gentleman if you cannot at least make a wager interesting,' said Darcy, 'but now I propose we down our glasses and go to sleep. Everything will be fine in the morning.'

'Everything could,' said Edward, 'indeed, everything _should_ be right tomorrow morning. But were I to go to bed now, I know I could not sleep.' And trying for a little humour, he added, 'It is quite _vexing_, to be sure, and you need not to keep me company, but I could never sleep knowing that my sister is in pain; I feel as if I should be doing something to assist her, but, by Jove, I know not what!'

'You can do nothing, Bennet, until the apothecary comes; and he shall not come until tomorrow.' And seeing that Edward was about to say something to that, he hurriedly continued, 'I know you know it, but 'tis quite different to know it and to be told by another.'

'I see you have endured similar situations. Who advises you when _you _are worried?'

'My cousin, who shares Georgiana's guardianship with me, tries.'

'Is he no help, then?'

Darcy answered with a twisted smile, 'We usually end up worrying together; we are both fearful of doing wrong by her.'

Edward could not help a smile at this, 'fearful' was not an adjective he would use to describe Darcy, and he could not picture it.

'You cannot be saying to me that a young girl strikes fear into the hearts of two grown men! I had never thought you timid, Darcy…'

'_Not_ a young girl, but the rearing of a young girl, if you please,' answered Darcy, not without humour.

'The rearing, indeed, does she gives you much trouble?'

Something indefinable crossed Darcy's face then, and he stiffened slightly. 'She does not; I could not ask for a better sister.'

'Nor I,' said Edward then, his mood sobering.

Taking Edward's cue and setting it on the table, Darcy calmly refilled both glasses before saying, 'To incomparable sisters, then! Bottoms up, this will help you to sleep.'

Edward downed the glass, and said nothing.

'Well, go on with you,' Darcy said, pausing to finish the bottle. 'Now you know that there is no other help for me, either, when sister troubles throw me into a state. Keep that in mind for future use.'

Edward only managed a weak smile before heading out of the room.

He had been tempted to ask for a second glass of brandy—or it was rather a third—before going upstairs; the spirit had not had much effect on him, he was sure. Sadly, Darcy had finished the bottle, leaving him no other choice but to go. Edward had to acknowledge his error, if only to himself, when he attempted to mount the stairs.

After two energetic steps up, he had to suddenly grab the banister. It was not, he assured himself, that the room had lurched and was at that moment swaying slightly; the jumping, and the darkness, and perhaps a little—a very little—the brandy had conspired to confuse him. It was nothing that measured steps could not manage.

He made his way, then, in a slower and more silent manner than would have been expected by another, the carpet masking any noise his shuffling feet made. And so it was that he was not the only person surprised when he came face to face with Miss Bingley, clad in only her night garments, at the top of the stairs.

Edward thought for moment that the alcohol had really addled his brain, and doubted his vision. The lady's dressing gown blinded him with its whiteness, and he had to strain his eyes to make out her face.

He could tell she was blushing profusely, right down to her… raising his eyes hastily, he blushed, himself. It certainly had not been his intention to stare so, but the spirit had certainly made his reactions slower. He was sure she would think him the worst kind of rake, and she never would know how wrong she was on that score.

Finally, when the silence was becoming unsupportable, Miss Bingley spoke. Her voice shook with an emotion Edward did not recognize when she said, 'Mr. Bennet! How shocking to find you here! I was just going down to the library to find something to read, to help me sleep.' And then, before he could make any answer, she added hastily, 'I certainly did not expect to find anyone here. I thought everyone asleep.'

Desperate for something to say that was intelligent and gracious at the same time, one unmentionable, ungentlemanly thought keep intruding so that Edward could not for the life of him remember any reasonable responses. However he tried, he could not shake the perverse satisfaction he felt when he thought, 'She certainly does not think me only a boy now.'

Desperate, he seized upon the first coherent phrase and said, '_I _am not the only one awake. Mr. Darcy is still in the billiard's room; he has managed to send me to sleep in a very efficient manner.'

He thought that he saw her eyes narrow, and heard her inhale sharply before she said in a harsh tone, 'Then I am sure I will retire immediately.'

Edward was momentarily disconcerted by her vehement reaction, and he answered as blandly as he could, 'I am sure you shall.'

A second later he knew that she would take his comment in the worst possible fashion. Indeed, she gasped, coloured even more deeply than before, and looked away. An uneasy silence followed, both at a loss for words. Finally, it was Edward who made the effort to speak again, searching this time for the most innocuous phrase he could muster; he would think later that he had been not quite successful.

'Well, 'tis Darcy's loss then, Miss Bingley, you do look ravishing tonight. And although it _is_ a delight to find you here, I find that I must be off presently.'

She did not speak. Considering that any further attempts at civility that he might make in his present state could only result in worse insults, he only made a stiff bow. As he left her there at the top of the stairs, he could feel her eyes on his back until he made it into his room.

Once there, disrobing proved to be difficult, not only for his drunkenness, which he had to admit was severe, but because he did not know if a servant would intrude upon him in the morning. He finally decided to simply leave his breaches and his linen shirt on. When he was drifting off he realized that Jane's condition had not crossed his mind for quite a while, and that sleep was not taking any time at all in coming.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

**Chapter 7**

The morning came with surprising haste; not two minutes, Edward was sure, after he had lain down, he was awakened by the sun in his eyes. He could not move at first. In fact, he was sure he could continue sleeping until the end of times came. He felt faintly sick. The odd pasty taste in his mouth made him wonder what had happened the night before, and then recollections of Jane's condition, of Darcy's advice and especially of Darcy's _brandy_ rushed through him. In only a moment he was on his feet and cleaning himself up.

His first action was to try to take a peek into his sister's room, but a maid caught him before he could enter and ushered him outside. Miss Bennet was not to be disturbed, the maid informed him, as she was finally sleeping after a very long and restless night. Guilt then gnawed at him something fierce. _I should have stayed with her instead of going off to drink myself to sleep,_ he berated himself bitterly.

He could only leave word to Jane saying he would come by later and go downstairs; he found the rest of the party in the breakfast room.

Darcy was serious, although that was hardly new or surprising. Bingley was visibly nervous and kept sending the servants up to inquire after Jane's health and comfort. Mrs Hurst and her husband, although they inquired—it would have been hardly been polite not to—appeared uninterested in the answer. Surprisingly they were the saving graces of the morning, both providing subject after subject of alternate conversation if only to keep themselves amused.

Miss Bingley proved the most curious subject. She kept her eyes lowered and flushed slightly every time their eyes met, but still she treated him with barely concealed contempt. The second she had finished eating, she excused herself—heading somewhere, Edward guessed, far away from him; he was surprised to note that no one but him remarked on the breach of propriety by their polished hostess.

As predicted, the apothecary had to be called as soon as Jane was able to receive him. After Mr. Jones arrived and went up to see her, the rest of the party had only to wait a little while when word was sent that he required Edward's presence. Bingley followed him unthinkingly. The apothecary, waiting for Edward outside Jane's room, was unconcerned and advised only rest—Jane was not to be moved under any circumstances—and some draughts he could dispense himself.

Bingley immediately offered an invitation for both siblings to stay until Jane would be well enough to return home safely; a week, or four days at the very least.

Edward saw no other solution and accepted the latter option—although it _was_ a day more than what the apothecary advised—as graciously as he could. A note was sent to Longbourn immediately to request that a servant be sent with their clothes, and to provide a more detailed explanation for Mr. Bennet.

For Edward the day passed strangely; he was at the same time in a daze and excruciatingly sluggish. The lack of his usual obligations made him realize how much they drove his life. His father had indeed passed control of the estate in all but name to him, but the transition had been so smooth that he had hardly noticed the change. Only now, when he could not attend to them, did he feel the weight of his duties.

The life of a gentleman of leisure was not as easy as he had thought as a child; _and not so difficult either,_ he chided himself, _it is hardly as if you were forced to toil from sun-up to sundown._ Nevertheless, an estate produced a frightful quantity of paperwork, even one as small as Longbourn. _I shall not envy Darcy his Pemberley,_ thought Edward sardonically, _it must need four times the attention! No wealth can repay that much desk duty._

Finally, in the afternoon, bored beyond endurance and sure that his sister would be awake and disposed to see him if he could only avoid the upstairs maid, Edward went looking for Jane. A surprise awaited him when he opened the door. Although he could not be certain of his success, he did at least take the trouble of hiding his astonishment.

"Miss Bingley, Jane, how are you passing this fine day? I trust you are both well?"

"Mr. Bennet!" said Miss Bingley blushing profusely. She was apparently unable to utter another word.

"Indeed, I am. Should I have introduced myself just now, do you think? It does appear that I tend to come upon you in surprising circumstances," answered Edward with a grin. His intended barb was double edged, and came quite unexpectedly to his lips.

"Edward! Stop teasing Miss Bingley. If you are indeed asking what you should have done, _I_ can answer perfectly; you should have knocked. You startled me so."

A smile softened her words, then, and she added, "And I am improved, as you can see, if I can still berate my younger brother so well."

"No, indeed, I can only conclude now that you are dangerously ill; you are so sweet, dear sister, you normally never berate me at all. I did, however, have excellent reasons for not knocking, I thought you might be sleeping and did not want to wake you."

Soon, Edward determined that she was, indeed, as well as could be expected, and that Miss Bingley's reading had kept her well entertained, and that they, in sum, were on the way of a rapidly forming friendship. He could not be more surprised, but even to his jaundiced eye, Miss Bingley appeared sincere. So he took his leave vowing to return later, once Miss Bingley decided to rest.

He wandered aimlessly through the house and proved Darcy's opinion of the library thoroughly correct before going outside for a walk. In the garden, he found Darcy himself, and was grateful to accept the offer of a horse and a race.

Dinner was a quiet affair, with half the people at the table thinking of other things and Miss Bingley eating upstairs with Jane. They all went to bed early.

The next day went better. Edward was calmer after spending a couple of hours at his sister's bedside and seeing her much improved.

He had come upon her before breakfast and asked for a tray to be brought up for him, and this time no Miss Bingley had usurped his place.

His impressions of the other inhabitants of the house had Jane laughing in no time—especially his account of his own worried pacing and wretched billiard's skills. Best of all was his attempt to manage the stairs with four, or were there five?—a gentleman had to have some dignity, after all—full glasses of brandy in his belly. Of course, he abstained from telling of his second encounter in the top of the stairs.

"I am sure Darcy did not expect me to be so bad at holding my liquor," he said, "but I had not quite realized the effect it was having on me until those first steps up."

After leaving his place to Miss Bingley, who still seemed very dedicated to her nurse role, or at least happy to have something to do, he went downstairs. There, he wrote a note to his father, to whom he communicated both his sister's improvement and their consequent impeding return in the appointed two days time.

It was a grey, overcast day, so when Darcy found him in the drawing room and offered him a billiards lesson, he did not hesitate to accept. Bingley was, Darcy explained, occupying himself with matters of the estate.

"A propos of this…" Edward asked, after they strung, "How do you manage it, being away from Pemberley so much?"

"You break, and I take the marked one." Darcy said whilst chalking his cue, and he then continued when Edward struck the ball, "I am not, usually, but I have a good, trustworthy steward who sends me all matters needing my attention by post."

At Edward's unconcealed surprise at his nonchalance—he even stopped playing to see if Darcy was teasing him—Darcy asked, "How do you know how much attention an estate requires?"

Edward knew he ought to be offended by his dismissal, but he actually was not, and decided to avoid the discussion of how much exactly he knew, it being rather more complicated than what he cared to have at the moment.

"I am hardly blind; I see my father. And I only thought you a more conscious manager, that is all; losing hazards; your turn."

Darcy appeared somewhat offended, saying, "Yes, well, I do not exactly _like_ to be away so often, but I gave Bingley my word that I would aid his search for an appropriate estate. I promised myself to see him settled before I go…" He stopped, surprised, and finished with a lame, "And I do not need to explain myself to you."

Edward could not help laughing.

"A little too late for that, I think, my friend," he said.

"Yes, I said I need not, not that I have not."

Darcy said that last with a smile, and then took his shot flawlessly.

Edward, remembering Bingley's remarks in the Assembly, waited until he was about to take the next one to say, "A wife and a few children would ensure your continuous presence on Pemberley, I am sure." And when Darcy missed, he added gleefully, "Losing hazards, again. My turn."

Darcy shot him a dark look while he prepared, "I see you have been paying attention," and when _he_ missed, "but not too much."

"Yes, well, I am learning from the best, am I not?"

"You are not learning from the best. You are attempting to distract the best, and that is another matter entirely."

"Yes, well, besides being an attempt to distract you, my observation was sincere. Why don't you marry? You are the perfect age for it, and you say your sister needs a suitable companion; who better for that than your wife?"

"That is no business of yours," said Darcy without raising his head from the table, where he was on a break of seven points already, with unrelenting perfectionism.

"Very well, it was my mistake; I am unerringly too curious, as my father would say. You are avoiding my very innocent and simple question, though."

Darcy faltered one second and then returned his attention to the exact placement of his cue.

"You may pose any question you like; I may choose not to answer them."

"Of course, you may not answer, but why? It is not a difficult question at all." Edward did not stop to ask himself why he was pursuing the matter. It was simple curiosity, he was sure as he spoke, awakened by Darcy's evasiveness.

Darcy then made his fifteenth hazard and asked for Edward's cue ball to be placed on the brown spot. He made the cannon before answering.

"Why do you not answer your own question first, then?"

"Oh, that is easy. I am too young and I have yet to come into my inheritance." He made a second's pause then and something made him add, wanting to see the other man's reaction, "In any case, I am not remotely as handsome as you are."

Edward smiled gleefully as Darcy missed and levelled an undecipherable look at him, "Your turn."

"Yours to answer, though," said Edward with good humour while he pocketed one, two winning hazards.

"I have… yet to find a woman worthy of the Darcy name."

"Worthy? Not one handsome, agreeable duchess has crossed your path?"

Darcy suppressed a smirk, "No."

"A shame, really; I am sure all the uglier, disagreeable ones are suffering in well-mannered silence for your indifference."

He was standing with his cue stick propped on the floor so excessively diverted that Darcy relented and smiled.

"Do take your shot some time in the next century; otherwise my time of wife hunting will be curtailed by my old age." And while Edward was taking it, he added, "I would consider Miss Bingley if I were _you_, Bennet. She was asking so insistently for your whereabouts this morning that I think a very fine line has been crossed."

Edward missed. Privately he thought that he would have missed even without the distraction, bothersome as it was, as he was trying for a very complicated cannon. He had already thought that lady's dislike of him too exaggerated for comfort; but he did not falter and smiled somewhat unpleasantly.

"Why? Are you perhaps jealous? Too much of her attention deviated from you while she did the asking?"

"You know perfectly well it did not. She asked me after all."

Darcy seemed determined not to miss any more shots.

"So, you are waiting for the right lady. We will make a romantic out of you yet, Darcy."

The other appeared only amused at this and asked, raising his head from his cue, "What do _you_ know about romance, Bennet?"

Edward, with the echo of the earliest dismissive question still resonating within, and although almost painfully aware of the truth of this one, said with a straight face, "I know enough. More than you, if we are to believe your way of looking for a wife; we could not make a good novel's hero out of you if we tried. Worthy of the Darcy name my hat!"

"You have not got a hat right now." And then, at his expectant face, he added seriously, "You know nothing of the responsibilities of my position."

Darcy sounded a little impatient, and Edward wished for a second not to have raised the matter at all, or at the very least, to retract his last phrase. But it was not to be, and he plunged on valiantly.

"I had thought you inherited without any special clauses."

Darcy stood back and looked at him steadily. "I did, at that, but I have my honour to consider as well; I have to respect my family's wishes."

There was nothing Edward could say to that; if nothing else, he understood how one's position in life defined what one could and could not do.

Quickly, Darcy then proceeded to win the game, and of unspoken accord they talked of things unrelated to marriage for the rest of the day.

Jane was well enough to come down for dinner that night. The affair was agreeable enough, Miss Bingley's unpleasantness completely masked by solicitous concern for her guest. Even Edward, who was looking for proof of her duplicitous nature, found it easy to be deceived by it. She did not seek to avoid his presence anymore, although she was, nonetheless, unfailingly cold—within the limits of politeness—to him. After each exchange, he felt Darcy's eyes on him and once, when he couldn't restraint himself and tried to meet his eyes, he encountered a smirk that was quickly hidden behind a glass. The situation was as uncomfortable as it was ridiculous.

After dinner, Edward approached Bingley, and after thanking him for his hospitality, stated that they would take their leave on the morrow, as Jane was now quite well and a three mile journey in carriage would surely not hamper her improvement. Bingley was horrified.

"After all Miss Bennet went through, after the danger?! To risk her health so, when you could perfectly stay, say, one more day, to make sure of her recovery…"

After the usual demurrals and 'thank you's and 'not at all's, Edward had to acquiesce, if only to avoid another such _pleasant_ discussion with his host. Bingley was extraordinarily stubborn for so easy a fellow. One more day they would stay, and Edward was to send a note to Longbourn requesting the carriage in advance; he did so immediately, if only as a way to avoid further delay in their departure.

The whole party expressed their delight in such arrangements, although Miss Bingley's response did sound somewhat strained.

Darcy's was subdued, "Time for another billiards lesson, then," he said to Edward.

And Edward was suddenly glad, because that was proof, finally, that their conversation had not upset him, nor had it marred their recent friendship.

The next day was agreeable enough. Jane's continuing presence in the room managed to keep Miss Bingley in good behaviour, even to the extreme of curbing her tongue when talking to Edward.

After a while of this, unnerved, Edward took advantage of the sudden sun that peeked timidly between the clouds to escape parlour chit-chat for a walk in the gardens. He was pleased when Darcy joined him, though not so much that he brought Miss Bingley on his arm.

Walking outside was surprisingly pleasant. Miss Bingley took obvious pains to hide her uneasiness, going so far as to appear to be friendly toward and even interested in Edward.

"You have been here three days and have yet to play for me," she said first thing, drawing Mr. Darcy's surprised gaze with her friendliness.

"I have not promised to do so," said Edward without missing a second, "and having as we do, such accomplished ladies in our midst, I would feel quite out of place."

"I am sure you are being too modest. Your sister has praised you so," she replied, the effect of her calm phrase ruined somewhat by her blush.

Edward could not find any sarcasm in her tone, so he tried to moderate his.

"Oh, my! You must have already heard me say that a sister's praise is very hollow, especially from a sister as excellent as Jane. I am afraid Jane will find her brother without fault no matter the subject."

"Then I must repeat what my brother said then, you will not paint her a liar in my eyes."

"Well, then, if I must. We will both play and you will be able to measure my worth for yourself."

Miss Bingley acquiesced with lowered eyes, but her suddenly found inquisitiveness could not be held back for long.

"Is Miss Bennet your only sister, Mr. Bennet?"

"No, she is not. I have one other."

"One other!" said Darcy, "is she married? You never speak of her…" His words trailed off, too late realizing the indelicacy of asking such a question. Edward, trying to put him at ease, answered with perfect humour.

"With my sister, I am afraid that the saying 'out of sight, out of mind' proves all too true. She is not married, but living since a very young age with some relatives in Scotland. She is my age to a day and my own excellent mother died with our birth. It was a lucky coincidence that my father could not care for both of us and that my aunt and uncle wanted children. From time to time I go visit her, but not enough, I am afraid."

Both his interlocutors were silent for a moment, at a loss for words, until Miss Bingley suddenly said, intending without a doubt to lighten the air,

"And what is she like?"

"Elizabeth is exactly like me in every respect, to both our chagrin; although I am sure she carries it better than me by far."

"Exactly like you!"

"Identical. Once when I was… about five I think, Jane in a fit of fancy put me in an old dress of hers and my father thought my sister had come alone all the way down from Scotland." Edward could not really remember his father's expression—he only had a vague idea of how discomfited he had been—but could imagine it well enough.

"A dress!" It seemed that there was no end to Miss Bingley's astonishment; she was indeed quite shocked.

"Do you not think, Miss Bingley, that I would make a creditable lady? You wound me!" Edward said with his humour more than intact, closing his eyes and raising his head for her perusal.

Miss Bingley's subsequent sputter drew a smile on his lips, and he opened his eyes, to enjoy the sight of her confusion.

Darcy spoke at that moment, directing himself to Miss Bingley with a serious tone, "Do not trouble yourself trying to answer, Miss Bingley, Mr. Bennet is only teasing you, I am sure." Then, looking at Edward again, and visibly stifling a smile, he said more thoughtfully, "Though I do believe many a woman would envy his lashes."

Edward attempted to laugh it off, but found himself unequal to the task. He smiled weakly, looked away, and started walking again. Had Darcy tried to fluster him? If he had, he had quite succeeded, but Edward was loath to give any show of it. The others went along with him, but now the silence was unsettling.

Finally Miss Bingley exerted herself, and began to comment charmingly on the lay of Netherfield gardens, and how Pemberley ones were so much greater.

Edward found himself answering very little, and though he was unequal to meeting them again, Darcy's disturbingly penetrating eyes preyed on him, and he could not be at ease.

Edward did not speak again with Miss Bingley until after dinner, when they both played a little for the party. Talk consisted of nothing but inconsequential things with Darcy, although they did play a spot of billiards in the afternoon.

He went to sleep with both Darcy's pensive gaze and Miss Bingley's ease at praising his playing preying on his mind. Everything conspired to enhance his relief at getting away from Netherfield on the morrow.

And indeed, as was previously arranged, the very next day after breakfast, the carriage came and returned them to Longbourn.

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**a/n:** Thanks go, like always, to my previously mentioned betas. Also to those of you that commented: it makes me happy that this story interests you enough to read along _and_ review. :D

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	8. Chapter 8

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**Chapter 8**

Mr. Bennet received his children with his customary dry wit, remarking on the amazing benefits to the health that a little holiday could have.

"Although I never knew Hertfordshire was such a fashionable destiny, I am glad I need not to send you further than three miles to restore you to good health. You must tell me in what aspect of the property Netherfield's marvellous healing powers reside, as being landlocked, it cannot be on the sea water," he paused, Edward guessed, for effect, and afterwards added with a pensive tone, "Perhaps it has nothing to do with the estate itself, and more with its inhabitants."

Edward was sure his father would have been surprised if he could have perceived how his raillery, patently directed at Jane, affected him. It took all his self control to avoid blushing.

Despite Mr. Bennet's dry tone, his eyes were worried and his hands gentle when he welcomed his daughter. Edward could not avoid noting that he looked her over seriously, as if searching for hints of fever and weakness.

"I would not try to organize a holiday resort around Netherfield, my father; if indeed we have come back in good health, it is because neither of us was really out of it. And as for its inhabitants, in their favour I can say that they i_did_/i keep us well entertained."

"Never out of health! But I am sure I received a note in your hand that said Jane had a fever, should I look for it? Do you suppose my old mind led me astray and I imagined it all?"

Jane looked at Edward reproachfully and went to their father, "You know how Edward is; he preoccupies himself needlessly. If he was worried for me, I can assure you there was no need. I had only a little trifling cold."

"Mmph, I have not known your brother to excessively worry about anything in his life. Much like his father, I should say. But if you say you are well, my dear, then I suppose I must believe you. Go on with you and rest. I must steal Edward; he has played the gentleman of leisure, with neighbours keeping him so well entertained, long enough—five long days—and there is business that needs attending to in the library."

Edward was soon absorbed by both the usual matters of the estate and the not so usual ones of breaking the entail. The time had come for them to break it, now that Edward was very nearly old enough.

The daylight hours were spent locked inside the library with his father, and if Edward's mind tended to wander away from the curly script and ridiculous vagaries of the common recovery parchment to even more puzzling subjects that resided three miles away, he thought he hid it successfully.

Three days after their sojourn in Netherfield, Edward was again with his father finishing papers. All the pertinent decisions regarding the entail were soon made, including who was going to be the trustee in charge and who would be the attorneys who would represent both of them in the Common Pleas Court.

Although he had been looking forward to witness what he considered one of the greatest farces in modern law, Edward let himself be convinced not to go. If his father was surprised he was so easily persuaded, he did not show it, and Edward himself preferred not to dwell on the reasons that kept him home.

In the aftermath of that discussion, Edward looked at the final version of the document that would begin it all. The deed looked important and he was well pleased with the elegant hand he had been able to use in drafting it. He had not always had as much patience with such pursuits. He raised his gaze and encountered that of his father, who beheld him from across the desk with eyes that spoke of pride and sadness, although the latter, Edward could not account for.

"It is done," he said, lacking any other subject. "We can send this today and put the process in motion. Have you thought about what we must do once the land reverts into fee simple?"

Mr. Bennet sighed and looked away, taking some time to compose his response; Edward was already fidgeting when it finally came.

"Indeed, I have done so."

He said nothing more, and Edward could not restrain himself. "May I ask, my father, what have you resolved?"

"You know me, Edward, resolve is not one of my strengths; I have thought long and hard about it, and resolved nothing."

His attempt at a self-effacing joke fell flat in the silent room.

After a while of tense silence, Mr. Bennet began again, "I have thought that it may be wise to settle the whole on the girls; a suitable portion to enlarge Jane's dowry, if she has not married by then, and the rest on Elizabeth."

Edward started, "Father!"

"Indeed, Edward, you must not speak in haste. Nothing is decided. I am only considering the possibilities."

"Have I done anything to displease you?"

"You know very well you have not. I just think that Elizabeth has been forgotten long enough by this family."

Edward looked away for a moment. He had trouble finding his voice, but when he did, he was surprised at how calm it sounded. "And what if she wants to be forgotten?"

"She does not know what she is about, then. I have made enough mistakes in my lifetime, and the only thing I am proud of is that I have left a way for her to return to us. We have spoken of this several times already; you must trust me that in the future you will change your mind."

Edward could not keep bitterness from tainting his words, "Indeed, I will do so once you trust me enough to know my own mind."

"I trust you, Edward, can you not sense it? It is not a matter of trust. When your mother died….You have no way to know what it is to live without love, but if you persist in following this path, you will know it soon enough. I have kept you apart from your given destiny; someday, you will resent me for it."

His father's voice was as warm and kind as it had ever been.

"There is no given destiny; it is only what we do with ourselves that matters. Or have I not served you well? Is that why you wish to settle upon your daughters?"

"My child, must you wilfully misunderstand my every word? It is _I_ who has served _you_ ill!"

"But I do not see it; I am as happy in my life as any other gentleman living in the King's Lands. If you will not trust my assurances, then where is the trust you speak of? And as for love, why should you worry on that account? It is not as though I intend to marry."

Mr. Bennet observed Edward for a few moments and then sighed in a defeated fashion before speaking.

"Very well, then, you must not worry. I will not change my will any time soon, and as I do not expect to die in the near future, we can defer this conversation to a more appropriate time. Now, off you go, enjoy the day, and take your sister outdoors for a while; so much time cooped in is beginning to show on her complexion."

Mr. Bennet's whole stance was dismissive, and Edward knew his father well enough to know that he would not be able to pry another word from his lips on the subject. His temporary victory did not appease him, as he well knew his father would try to carry his point to the end, and so it was with a downcast mien that Edward went looking for Jane.

He found her in the drawing room, and was about to propose an excursion outside when Darcy and Bingley were announced and brought in. Jane's change of countenance was obvious to Edward, her whole face lighting up with joy at Bingley's clearly besotted looks.

Edward could only be glad at their coming, as it brought happiness to his sister and a welcome distraction to himself. Promptly, before the gentlemen took their seats, Edward proposed going out. He was wild for fresh air and the sun on his face.

Bingley was the first to immediately acquiesce. Edward knew it was because it was the only arrangement that promised a modicum of privacy, but he did not care. Indeed, he was of the same mind, and he did not hesitate to suggest Oakham Mount—the longest walk without going into the village—as their destination. They walked out, and were soon separated into two couples: Edward and Darcy in front and Jane and Bingley lagging behind.

Initially, there was silence between Darcy and Edward, although the latter thought that it was the most comfortable silence that had ever reigned between them. It was Darcy who broke it, hesitantly.

"How is your father? Is he in good health?"

"He is; he remains in his library, which can only mean he is enjoying incomparable health," said Edward with forced joviality.

"Miss Bennet appears to be in good health also. I trust there was no set back in her illness?"

Now Edward could be honestly amused, and recover his usual merriment; Darcy's strict civility in awkward moments was indeed diverting. He had to keep his answer short to avoid laughing.

"As you see."

For a few moments they were silent again, Darcy apparently at a loss of subjects, and then Edward, his good humour restored, decided to help the conversation along.

"I am glad you have come to call on us; I cannot claim an interest equivalent to Jane's in the visit, but I do appreciate it."

"Bingley has been buried in estate matters; Netherfield is not in as good condition as could be wished."

"You need not to use Bingley as an excuse to visit me, you know," said Edward looking sideways at Darcy, "I can honestly say that I enjoy your company. I am a very dull fellow without anybody to tease; Jane has become too easy a target."

"We, too, have been extremely bored without you," said Darcy with a slight smile, and to Edward's frustration, changed the subject, "although Miss Bingley denies it; indeed, she talks about how glad she is you are gone almost every day! I do think the lady doth protest too much."

Edward hid his smile; indeed it appeared that way, but he should not laugh at it.

"I hope she does not regret having made our acquaintance, or at the very least, that she values my sister's friendship," he said, trying to feign nonchalance.

"She has not said as much; but she laments that 'dear Miss Bennet' has such a disagreeable brother."

Edward made a gesture towards the direction the two lovers should be, and said, "I think she will have to learn to endure me, difficult as I may be. I am not as disagreeable as all that, am I, Darcy?"

"You are not _as disagreeable as all that,_ no," Darcy answered, raising a eyebrow at him in mocking strictness.

"Ah, I see now what you are about, but I will not fall for it," said Edward with a twisted smile. "I will not ask at what exact measure I am disagreeable, I am determined."

"Very well then, if you need reassurance behind that mocking gaze; you are not disagreeable at all. Are you resigned then, to make of Bingley your brother? That will make Miss Bingley your sister in a way, and if _she_ is not disagreeable, she is not exactly agreeable to you either."

"I am sure that no other man besides Bingley will do for Jane; she has not spoken about it with me, but I know her well enough. I suppose that if she must marry, she cannot do better than Bingley."

"If she _must_ marry? Are you perchance against marriage? I would not have guessed it, by your pushing the matter with me."

"For men, I am sure it is all the same; life changes very little. We are our own masters, before or after. Women, on the other hand, never govern themselves unless they have money and are _particularly_ lacking in husbands and fathers; and even then, they are more constrained by propriety."

"Do you not approve?" Darcy's voice was completely neutral, and once Edward looked, his face did not offer him any hint of his feelings on the matter either.

He decided to answer truthfully.

"I do not. I would not wish to be a woman under those circumstances; would you? To be forever at the mercy of the decisions of others?"

"It is thought that they need the guidance, while we men do not."

Edward, thoroughly tired of conventional wisdoms and Darcy's neutral responses, spoke more forcefully than what he would have liked, saying –

"You are an intelligent man, Darcy, and you have a sister; you must know that it is only education that makes the sexes' minds different from one another. How can women be fully rational if the only thing expected from them is to play and sing, draw and speak the modern languages, like trained animals taught to entertain to catch a husband? Their education does not equip them for anything else."

"You feel strongly about this," said Darcy; it was more a statement than a question.

Edward vacillated only a second before answering, "Who in their right mind would not?"

He knew he was being insulting, and argumentative, and he at that moment regretted having put Darcy in an uncomfortable position. Trying to lighten the mood, he said "One does worry about one's sisters—and daughters, if my father's reaction to Jane's illness is any indication. He would go to any length to provide for his daughters' happiness."

"Indeed," said Darcy, and then he returned to the previous subject. "And you have been reading Wollstonecraft, I can tell. There is nothing like a good dry tome to inflame the righteous feelings."

"You can tell? Have _you_ read her?"

Darcy caught the incredulity of his tone, and looked at him sharply while answering. "Why would you think I have not?"

"You did not agree with her, then."

"Again, you are jumping to conclusions. Can you not wait a second and hear a fellow out before you jump for the jugular? I have read her, and I find myself of the same mind on many subjects."

"You do?" Edward was astonished. Astonished and relieved, if he was honest with himself.

"Not in _all_ subjects," responded Darcy with a significant look, "and my sister does need my guidance more often than not."

"Your sister is very young, is she not? Are you saying that at her age, you were already the wise man I have before me?" asked Edward slyly.

"You must take care, my friend; you sound remarkably like Miss Bingley."

Quicker to feign offence than to actually take it, Edward answered, "Even if we may say similar things, I am sure we never do it with the same feelings!"

"Indeed, I can readily believe it; nonetheless, it would behove you to take care all the same. The shock would surely kill that fine lady if she could hear you—she is convinced you could never agree on anything."

"She may very well believe it! And I see you have evaded my earlier question. You are indeed very sly, Darcy. Were you all-knowing when you were your sister's age?"

"I am sure I am not _all knowing_ now."

Seeing that Darcy kept avoiding a direct answer, Edward decided to let the matter drop. He finished the discussion with a last jab before changing subjects to more conventional themes, saying, "I am sure that to someone, whom I shall not name again, you certainly seem so!"

Darcy only raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, having heard as much from him before, and let himself be swayed into another topic.

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**A/N:** Thanks to my incomparable betas from this last edition, Heather and Julie.


	9. Chapter 9

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**Chapter 9**

Edward was of an extremely amiable mood the next time he saw Darcy. He, along with the other gentlemen of the neighbourhood, had been invited to dine with the officers of the ---shire's Militia, lately quartered in Meryton. For Edward, the evening ahead presented an opportunity for unalloyed entertainment.

All the officers he had met had turned out to be, if not perfect gentlemen, then at least extremely agreeable acquaintances. And besides, the presence of his two friends from Netherfield guaranteed him rational intercourse.

When he arrived, the rooms where noisy and full of smoke; it was obviously a gentlemen's dinner. He was spotted at once by an officer he had met previously, and introduced to the rest immediately. If such easy solicitude did not completely serve to put him at ease, it went a far way into doing so.

The conversation went gaily about him, only minimally tasking his mind. It consisted mainly of the officers' mutual raillery, most of whom were men only barely older than himself. It was dominated and steered by a handsome man of around eight and twenty years, one Lieutenant Wickham, who was by turns faintly boasting and humble.

It was perfectly clear to Edward that all the younger officers were completely in awe of this gentleman, who seemed well aware and relished the attention. His adventures never crossed the line of the incredible, and they had farcical endings in which he appeared to gently mock himself, but he always managed to cast it in a good, advantageous light.

The man was very good at it, Edward had to concede, and if he had not come at the gathering in a cynic frame of mind, he would have probably let himself be deceived by his charm. Perhaps if Wickham had concentrated all his power, that is. But as it was, the officer was too preoccupied enchanting his comrades. Edward listened and was amused by him, but no more.

Wickham was in the middle of a story—in which he had been drafted from the streets to judge a boxing competition between Lord Foley and a very drunk Mr. Goutier while passing by White's—when Edward was distracted by his friends' entry into the rooms. Despite Bingley's usual amicable disposition, both looked around—seemingly lost—and did not make any movement to approach anyone. At this, Edward felt compelled to go to their sides immediately.

Both smiled and seemed glad to have his company, Darcy even more so than Bingley. Edward offered immediately to introduce them to the group he had been talking to, interested in seeing what would they make of Lieutenant Wickham's theatrics, and Bingley acquiesced for both enthusiastically.

As they neared the group, Wickham's voice could be heard, loud and clear, and Edward realized that he now was telling a different story altogether. When he heard the man's words he could not help starting and looking back at Darcy.

"…this bit of muslin was no innocent I assure you. I would swear that she had met more than one man already, but you could not tell from just seeing her. I am sure her father thought that she was as innocent as the day was long."

Edward did not know if he wanted to learn how Darcy would take such a show.

Another man made a comment they could not hear, and Edward saw Darcy blanch and falter when Wickham answered slyly—

"A prime article, I assure you. The green dress I gave her was not made with any silk her father had in his shop."

At that moment they reached the officers' side and an extremely curious thing happened. Wickham, almost in the middle of the group, started and made an involuntary movement, as if he wanted to flee. Edward could only look at him askance, whilst he looked fixatedly at Darcy, who suddenly turned an alarming shade of red.

Seeing that the situation was almost unbearable, as all the men had been listening to Wickham before and were now looking at the newcomers and paying the utmost attention to the unfolding events, Edward hastened to make the introductions.

Darcy then seemed to make a supreme effort, and taking a sharp indrawn breath, answered the greetings. Nonetheless, his tone was clipped and angry; and when the time came he made only an almost imperceptible nod in the officer's direction. He retreated from the group sooner than it was polite.

Bingley was momentarily stumped and only answered when spoken to, confusedly. He seemed as astonished as Edward felt, and kept sending curious looks at his friend, who was standing alone in the other side of the room.

The conversation in the group stalled, its self-appointed leader still red in the face and silent, until finally Bingley stepped forward and endeavoured to make matters right by being pleasing and agreeable himself. As always, it worked, and the level of noise picked up again to a hum with occasional shouts of laughter.

Seeing that Darcy was then left alone to stare out of a window, Edward extricated himself from the group and went to him.

He could not speak; nothing except questions came to his mind and he knew that at such a moment, questions could only be unwise. Darcy's face was set in grim lines, his entire posture rigid and uncomfortable. It spoke of carefully controlled anger, and it made Edward furious on his behalf. He knew not of what. He was sure at that moment that the other could not but be a smooth tongued scoundrel, and that he had perpetrated some unpardonable offence against his friend.

He had resigned himself to offering only silent company when they were called to the table. There, the only two empty seats they found next to each other were far from Bingley's. Edward could not help but feel that he should stay by Darcy the whole evening to help him, at the very least, to keep his composure.

The moment they sat themselves, Bingley looked over the surrounding officers' heads to Edward, and moved his eyes quickly at Darcy—who was staring gloomily at the table top—and back again. Edward was not sure he understood. Indeed, he was not sure at all of what one did on such occasions, but he made a gesture as if assenting. It seemed it was the right thing to do, because Bingley then smiled brightly and returned his attention to the conversation. Edward could only wonder at what he had assented to.

The last to enter was Colonel Forster, who was preceded by Wickham. This officer sported the most curious expression on his face; it seemed a mix of fear and daring, such were his paleness and smirk combined.

He thankfully sat far away from them, at the other extreme of the table, and Edward had no time to speculate on his dominating the general conversation, when he could be easy again. The Colonel had sat at the head of the table closer to them, and in deference to his rank, the discourse turned to strategy, a favourite topic of his.

So they talked on and on about the war, the continent, and the possibility of getting Armagnac through the Navy. As the dinner continued, the wine kept flowing, and the conversation grew less serious. By the end, the Colonel was rhapsodizing over the attributes of one Harriet whom he hoped to soon marry and his officers were hiding their smirks behind their glasses. She was, apparently, not only the most beautiful girl in the county, but refreshingly honest and delightfully charming.

"Miss Harriet," he said for what it seemed the umpteenth time, "was just telling me during a card party at Lucas Lodge some afternoons ago, that she has never met anyone who is my match regarding shooting accuracy. She accompanied us when we went shooting with her brother, as you might know."

Edward had the sudden urge to drink, and almost chocked on his wine. The officer that helpfully hit him on the back to relieve his suffering seemed very understanding.

Darcy appeared tranquil, but he was also more subdued than what was usual even for him. To Edward, it was obvious that Darcy's effort to ignore Wickham was costing him greatly.

For his part, Edward could not eat. He had to make a real effort to be his usual amiable self. The Colonel's self-important speeches were ridiculous, and his officers unsupportable. He could not wait to be gone.

Finally it neared the end of the evening, though Edward was sure the officers planned to extend it far more than it was usual. The drink had made them raucous and the food lazy; they were patently happy to be there and had no intentions to move. He could only wonder if the gentlemen had any obligations at all besides eating, drinking, and enjoying the general society!

Darcy passed the bottle of port to Edward, and he could not avoid noticing that his friend's glass was rather fuller than what was polite. Before he could decide if saying anything to him was wise or not, a sudden hush in their side of the table made possible—nay, impossible not to—for them to hear Wickham's next words. He appeared to have been talking for quite some time, and they caught his final words.

"Miss Goulding? No, I would have you know I am no backgammon player; the woman is so little endowed, she is practically a Miss Molly!"

In the following general hilarity, Darcy stood up rather abruptly, and Edward was sure he intended to leave. They could not, he was sure, leave without calling undue attention to themselves and probably offending the Colonel in the bargain, but he could do nothing about it. Placing a restraining hand on Darcy's arm, he called Forster's attention and spoke, rather urgently,

"My friend here does not feel too well," and gesturing to the port bottle, he forced a smile and added, "Civilians like us are not at all capable of keeping up with military men. I am afraid we must leave you; I must see him reach Netherfield safely."

The Colonel smiled in understanding and saluted them in good humour, though he seemed a little surprised with Darcy's very apparent stability. He had gone out in decided strides the moment Edward had let go of his arm. Edward himself could not be so hasty, and looked around at Bingley before going out. There was nothing much he could communicate without speaking, so he only shrugged, almost imperceptibly.

He was turning around again when his eyes met Wickham's, and he fancied he was being coldly assessed, but could only frown slightly and be gone. He had to hurry to reach Darcy and they set out at a furious pace, leaving the carriage to Bingley without a second thought. Darcy was always some feet ahead, and to Edward, the silence seemed to be heavier than any they had shared before. Edward abhorred silences like this one; he never knew how to act.

Finally, and almost running to keep up with the other, Edward said in his brightest tone, "I do think I could beat the Colonel at pistols, even is he is 'the best shot of the Regiment', as Miss Harriet seems to think, or to have Forster think she thinks."

And at Darcy's unrelenting silence, he kept going, "If she thinks indeed. I cannot believe her so calculating. She used to be unable to do so beyond the latest fashion in lace colour for her bonnet."

All energy seemed to go out of Darcy at once, and he resumed a more normal pace, looking at Edward once before speaking,

"You should not talk so, you know. She is a lady and you are a gentleman."

"A lady, and the future Mrs. Col. Forster to boot," said Edward with a smirk.

He was happy to see that he got a smile for his troubles, and so he continued,

"What manner of gentlemen we dined with tonight! Lieutenant Denny, who sat beside me, for example, even attended university. He did not stay long, of course, but what tales he told me. I do think you missed most of them, as the dear colonel held most of your attention, but you must tell me, I cannot believe university allows leisure enough for all he claims to have done."

"I am sure it does for all those who care to. I would not know."

Darcy's tone was dry, if not a little cutting.

"Come, I did not mean to insult you! You know enough of me to know that I may laugh, but I would never be so free of restraint, myself."

"Of course."

"Then stop being so grim! _You_ have not told me anything about your experiences. Every man I know has things he brags about to little inexperienced fellows like me—usually women, come to think of it. Indeed, I have heard enough of it tonight from gentlemen for whom I care not a jot about, and not a peep from you. "

Darcy spluttered, "You cannot be serious. No gentleman would speak of it; Bingley, I am sure, did not tell you anything, either."

"He is as good as courting my sister; would you expect him to?"

"No! And not because of that! There are things better kept private, you know…" But he was no longer angry, and Edward could see he was really amused by the subject.

Edward had to look away before speaking; the urge to laugh was so great. "But then, how would green young'uns like me get any information?"

"Green! You cannot be as green as you are claiming. You will not convince me. For a short, barely tolerable fellow, you have practically every girl in the county making eyes at you."

Darcy never broke his stride, but Edward felt his gaze on him all the same, and he could not meet it lest he betrayed his amusement. "Only because sighing for you would be useless; you barely look at them."

"I must weigh my actions, you know that. I am responsible for the consequences."

Hating the fact that Darcy had turned a perfectly good conversation into a serious one, he said, unable to hide his irritation, "I am too, responsible and sensible. Do you see me getting any experience with young girls?"

Darcy appeared not to be offended by his tone; he only smiled slightly and raised an eyebrow. "You are barely older yourself, you know; but if that is not appealing, there are always books…"

Edward could not resist acting the surprised youth again, turning to Darcy and opening his eyes as wide as they would go. "Books? What sort of books? Do you have any recommendations?"

Darcy bit his lower lip and even so could not prevent a smirk from forming; his tone wanted to be final, but did not quite manage it. "No. And I can see now, you fancy you are teasing me now."

"Me, teasing? I am only looking for information. Would Bingley know? Or better, would he tell me?" Edward was enjoying this far more than he should have.

"How am I to know? Ask _him_."

"But you do talk about this kind of thing with him, do you not?" asked Edward, who at this point found himself genuinely curious.

"We are very old friends."

"That is not an answer."

"Very well. Occasionally."

Edward thought he had caught him then.

"Then why not talk to me?"

"If you are as green as you say, then I would be loath to spoil your innocence. There is so little left of it in the world," he said with a smirk, and then, after a brief moment of hesitation, changed the subject.

"I trust you have observed today's… events, and concluded that I know Lieutenant Wickham."

"Of course." Edward wanted to say something more, to reassure his friend somewhat, but he knew not how.

"We have… the acquaintance is an old one. He was my late father's godson. We have not parted in the best of terms, by his own doing. He is not a man to be trusted."

Edward knew he had to acknowledge the revelation in some form, but again was at a loss for words. To say that he had concluded that much before seemed to ask for Darcy's approval and nothing was further from his mind. Finally he said, "Of course, I trust you, Darcy."

A look of understanding passed between them, and then they had to turn around at the sound of a coach. It was Bingley, who had even thought to bring Edward's horse with him.

He was subdued, but in seeing them in a similar mood, made an attempt to cheer them, saying, "Well, I do not think we have to worry about having to stand the colonel's monologues anymore: I doubt we will ever be invited back!"

They were both too grim to be so easily amused, and they took leave with few words—

Darcy entered the carriage, Edward mounted his horse, and they separated, too tired even to arrange an outing for the next day.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to my betas and the people who recced this (Nimph, I'm looking at you!). BTW, all the rest, go read her 'And This Is Your Opinion of Me?', it's way better than any fic I could come up with--real modern comedy of manners, what more could you want? And of course to the people who took the time to comment. Even saying this doesn't make sense helps! Here it is, for those who asked this be updated soon. :D


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

**Chapter 10**

The next weeks passed, neither more quickly nor more slowly than they should, but tallying exactly sixty seconds a minute and sixty minutes an hour, twenty four hours a day, and seven days a week. What made those weeks peculiar was rather the manner in which they were spent.

Most of those hours were spent in agreeable conversation with Darcy. They hunted, or played billiards, or simply went out, riding or walking. Why would that be peculiar? Edward did not know; he only felt that they were unlike everything he had lived before in his life.

Edward had been absorbed in the contemplation of the horizon, or rather thinking of other things while appearing to observe the horizon, when he realized Bingley and Darcy had been speaking for a while.

"I do _have_ to go to London, Darcy, it is no sudden caprice. I would much rather stay, you know, but it cannot be helped."

Edward watched them curiously, and Bingley, seeing him paying attention, said, "So, anyone want to join me? We can go and be back again in only a couple of days."

"There is nothing to tempt us, really," said Darcy.

"Not you, perhaps, but I have great plans for doing Bennet the same favour you did me, and introduce him at White's and a couple of other places."

"I see no great temptation in that for Bennet," said Darcy, "there would be nobody to interest you there, so early in the season."

Bingley was incredulous and half laughing. "You wound me, Darcy; you must know I do not care only for the social season. Several of _your_ relatives will be there, and some friends as well. I know, you have no interest in going, and furthermore you want Bennet to keep you company."

"If you want to go and be back in such a hurry, you hardly need us to run after you."

Edward intervened then, a little irked at Darcy's ready decision making for both of them, "I will be happy to go with you, Bingley, as I have business of my own to accomplish. I had planned to do so by letter, but I find," he added looking saucily at Darcy, "that I favour a more meticulous approach to matters of business."

Darcy only raised his brow in response, not letting himself be baited.

The exact time and mode of travel was planned in a few more phrases, Bingley and Edward being both of such easy disposition and decisiveness that an uncharitable person would perhaps mistake them for hasty or rash. They were set to go the next day by horseback at midmorning, sending before them some clothes by carriage with Bingley's manservant.

Darcy's irritation with his friends could not be hidden, but he would not go with them, and he kept from further expressing it. He even saluted them from Netherfield's entrance when they finally left.

Edward and Bingley were obliged then to set out at a dignified pace, until the house was out of sight, and only then giving in to more childlike impulses, they raced until they were sure they had to stop, lest they kill the horses before mid-journey.

Edward was then reminded why he had liked Bingley best at first, with his easy manners and outgoing disposition. One could never be uncomfortable in his presence, and the conversation went on always effortlessly for both parties.

They reached London in good time, and found that all had been prepared for their comfort in the Hursts' townhouse. They bathed, changed, ate something, and were out of the door as soon as they were able. Each went out to do their respective businesses first; they were both of a mind to consider duty before entertainment, especially since they wanted to leave the next day for Hertfordshire.

Edward went to his attorney's office. There they had been waiting for his letter and were surprised to see him in person. The business he had there was soon concluded, and he was left to wander about, not wanting to be back in the house without his friend.

As it turned out, Bingley was already waiting for him in the parlour when he returned.

"Ah, Bennet, here you are. I was beginning to worry."

"Nothing to worry about, I just stopped to buy my sister a present. I would have hurried if I had known you were waiting for me."

Bingley dismissed the thought with a gesture, saying, "I have not been here long. I was thinking we could go dine in a club instead of staying here. My sister's cook delights in French cuisine, but I have no taste for it, especially after months of eating nothing else."

"I am certain I shall find agreeable whatever you prefer."

"Perfect. If Darcy were here, we may have gone to White's; but really, neither you nor I would be really comfortable there on our own. I much prefer Brooks'. Let us dine at Brooks'."

Thus settled, it was only matter of deciding what to do between then and now. And what could they do in London that they could not in Hertfordshire? There were suddenly so many options, Edward could not decide. Bingley finally tempted him with a visit to Angelo's, to spar and perhaps to get counsel on improving his technique.

Edward owned a copy of _L'Ecole des Armes_ and his father had taught him the basics. Furthermore he had, at one point in his life, been quite enchanted with the sport and tried to practice by himself, but it was another thing that drew him to it. He still remembered that Darcy was a very accomplished fencer, and the lure of becoming equally accomplished with the objective of besting him was strong. It was ridiculous, of course, no less because he had no hopes of doing so after one lesson.

In there they met, much to Bingley delight, some of his friends, and even one of Darcy's cousins, a Colonel Fitzwilliam. He had the most agreeable manners Edward had ever met with, polite and engaging. Showing himself to be pleasantly surprised at finding his cousin's friends in Town, he asked a good deal of questions about how Darcy was doing and if he planned to join them there.

"Oh no, we return to Hertfordshire tomorrow. We came on business that could not be delayed and Darcy found it pointless to come and go back in so little time. We have left him quite settled at Netherfield and I expect we will find him there at our return, only a little more bored than before." Bingley answered cheerfully.

"Settled! I say, I expect he has not forgotten he has a sister that is expecting to pass the holiday season with him! I will have to write him otherwise…"

"I do not think he would forget Miss Darcy," said Bingley without losing his smile, "I extended the invitation to her in any case, so it is quite possible that he has arranged to bring her to Netherfield."

Though all this open talking about Darcy's plans was bothering him a little, as he was sure the man himself would disapprove of it exceedingly, Edward hastened to assure the colonel of his cousin's constancy.

"He has said to me that he has written to his sister to arrange it, though I am not sure if she has responded."

"And so it goes," said Colonel Fitzwilliam with perfect unconcern, "I am the last to hear of it. Though I must not be so hasty to condemn them, it is quite possible he has written to me about it, and I have overlooked it; Darcy's letters are so long and serious, they cannot always claim my attention from beginning to end with success."

This phrase, said with good humour, and in all probability conceived more to amuse than to reflect any truth, almost offended Edward on Darcy's behalf. He had to make an effort to take it as lightly as it was meant. The colonel's cavalier attitude did not endear him to Edward, and almost undid the good impression his manners had left him.

They were then joined by some other acquaintance of both the Colonel and Bingley, a Mr. Clowes, which, having been a while since he had last seen Bingley, was very interested in the current state of his life.

"I say, it has been awhile since I have seen any of the people we spent that agreeable summer with. I have been very remiss with my correspondence, I suspect, but that is as it is. What news have you of the Harpers?"

"I have not known anything of them either. I went to Derbyshire the day after you left for town, and any mention of my capabilities as a correspondent is best left unsaid."

"The day after! Miss Harper must have been devastated!" Mr. Clowes's tone was teasing, not at all serious, but Edward could not like it. He was left wanting to hear Bingley answer and he did not have to wait very long, as it came immediately and it was easy and unaffected.

"Indeed, I doubt she was! The rest of the party stayed, and I am sure they were very merry indeed."

Momentarily, Edward had to bite his lips to avoid asking some very ill-bred questions, but soon enough he was distracted. The three men were very entertaining conversationalists, and furthermore they were at a fencing club, and all were soon likewise engaged.

Bingley was an extremely agreeable partner for simple practice, as not only was he light on his feet and graceful, but easy on his partner as well. Nonetheless, Edward suspected that in a real match, Bingley's lack of competitiveness would annoy him no end, especially since, being the poorer fencer, Edward was sure he would feel condescended to.

They sparred, and Edward had to summon all his knowledge and ability to keep up with Bingley, even though he suspected that his friend was not using all of _his_. Bingley kept him on the offensive, defending his position quite easily but nevertheless giving up terrain for every attack of Edward's.

Edward soon realized Bingley was teaching him, in a roundabout way. He had not said anything, and was not saying anything now, but every one of his movements showed Edward a potential misstep in his part, leaving him enough time to correct it.

Some time later they stopped, at the end of a bout, as they were both somewhat out of breath. Edward could not really tell how much time had passed since they had begun, so absorbed with the match he had been.

There were a couple of men standing sufficiently close to them to observe them comfortably, and Edward suspected they—or in all justice only him, in his inexperience—made an amusing picture. One of them approached them then, and Bingley greeted him with respect and familiarity. He immediately afterwards introduced Edward to him. It was, it turned out, Henry Angelo himself, who was interested in knowing where Edward had learned to fence.

Edward answered with some embarrassment, "I have not learnt anywhere, really, unless you count your esteemed father's book. My own father coached me a little, but he is not very interested in any sport, so it has been really only a little, I am afraid."

"I only ask because you have a very interesting style. Are you interested in improving?"

"I am, of course, but I do not reside in London for any length of time, I only come, as now, for one or two days at a time. The rest of the year, I am in Hertfordshire."

"That is a shame, indeed! Though perhaps, it is not so bad, as you would be better served in learning in the French school, I suspect. Your style, unpractised and novice as it is, reminds me of Chevalier d'Eon's. If you ever stay in Paris, you would do well in frequenting the _Académie d'Armes de Paris_."

Edward shamefacedly thanked him, but Angelo just proceeded to give some pointers to improve on their stances, more to Edward than to Bingley, and then he left them to themselves.

And so they sparred a little more, until they both pronounced themselves quite thoroughly done in and decided to go to the Hurst's to refresh themselves before proceeding to Brooks' to dine.

Their walk through St. James' Street was at a leisurely pace, both too tired and too happy to do more than converse of any and every thing in an easy tone. It was the perfect thing to do after the day they had, and the type of conversation one could dedicate only half a mind to, the rest of the attention used to observe the particular crowd that populated that part of town at that particular hour.

"So, Bennet, what did you bought for your sister?"

"A book."

"Your sister likes books a great deal, I gather; we have spoken about novels in many an occasion."

"Jane does like them," answered Edward, beginning to understand to where the questions were tending, "and novels best of all, particularly Miss Burney's. Are you taking notes or you will be asking me this again at a later time?"

Bingley coloured and smiled, looking up at the night, but said nothing.

"You should—you know. Not many men know—" Edward was almost stopped in his tracks. As it was, he could not avoid stumbling over his words, nor the sudden silence it followed.

"What is it?" asked Bingley, trying to catch up with him. He had stepped up his pace, completely red in the face.

"Insufferable presumption!" was the only thing that Edward could articulate.

"Why, what is it?"

Bingley now sounded preoccupied on top of puzzled.

"Deuced—"

"Who?" asked Bingley turning around.

"In the window," finally responded Edward, as now that the initial moment of embarrassment had passed he felt rather foolish.

"Window? Ah! White's bow-window! That must have been Brummell and the dandies that usually surround him, then. Why, what did they do? You must not pay them any attention."

Edward felt himself heat up again. He regretted having made such a fuss, because how could he satisfy Bingley's inquisitiveness with anything less than the truth? And, nevertheless, he felt unequal to expressing it aloud. He tried a shortened, tempered version of it,

"They were looking me—us—up and down thoroughly, without any shame whatsoever!" He tried to say it in as dramatic a tone as he could, only because he did not want Bingley to perceive there was anything else to be told.

"And I daresay it was through those dreadful quizzing glasses as well," said Bingley, patently trying for seriousness of tone, and failing miserably. "I say, Edward, I did not know you were so easy to fluster! You should be glad he did not cut us; the shame would have followed us all the way back to Hertfordshire. "

"Well, now you know," responded Edward, forcing the words between the teeth of a tight smile, relieved that he did not have to explain himself further.

The truth was that one of those so called gentleman, at the occasion of their eyes meeting, quite by accident, and having finished a through perusal of Edward's person, had lowered his glass and openly, overtly, winked at him!

Edward decided not to give in to the strong necessity of checking that the lines of his coat and breeches were in order, but it caused him to want to be away from the public eye more than ever. In a moment more they reached Brooks', and the subject, to Edward's relief, could be changed.

And so they were, hours later, drinking port contentedly ensconced in leather armchairs, having eaten heartily, and talked not half as much as they would have otherwise.

Bingley broke the silence. "So, tell me, Bennet, what matter of business brought you here? I could tell Darcy did not know and wanted to, so I kept my peace, but now I find myself quite curious."

"Why would Darcy know? And furthermore, how did you know he wanted to?"

"So many questions instead of answering mine! It is fine, I will answer first if that is your price," responded Bingley with merry eyes. "My answer to the first would be, 'Darcy knows everything', but as that is patently untrue, I would say, 'Darcy knows almost everything, especially those things that concern his intimate friends'. The answer to the second is quite as easy as that. He did not talk about it, not even in passing. He avoided commenting on the fact with me, even though I tried to speak of it. In fact, he did not mention it once, on any of the conversations we shared about the trip since yesterday."

"Just for that?" Edward knew he sounded disappointed, but he had spoken before he could master himself.

"That is quite enough, I assure you! Darcy does not give a more obvious hint of his mind than that. If he did not care, he would have referred to it, I am sure."

"If you say so, Bingley."

"I say so. What is more, I assure you he will ask you about it, once he has had time to make up his mind how. He is extremely attached to you, you know; I have never known him to make friends so easily. But now, tell _me_ first; it would be the first time I have a chance to know before Darcy something which does not concern me privately." Tempering his tone to one of less eagerness, he added belatedly, "That is, if you want to."

"I have no problem with telling you, I would not consider it a matter of this much interest. It is only some matter of business with the trustees of the estate, for my father."

"Oh, I would have expected something less mundane."

"Like what? Meeting a secret betrothed?"

Bingley started, and then laughed before answering, "That would have been most interesting information to have before Darcy. And I would have been anxious to see you tell him. He has been in such uncharacteristically unpredictable humour lately; I do not know how he would react. He is excessively attentive to the wellbeing of his friends, but he does frown on romantic entanglements of the kind that are not first approved by him!"

Edward, liking and not liking the turn of the conversation, decided to press it to his advantage, "And how, pray tell, would you know Darcy's opinion on his friends' romantic entanglements?"

"I am his friend, of course," said Bingley in a good humoured tone.

"And have you had many chances to personally verify it?"

Suddenly, Bingley's smile was almost nonexistent. "Not many."

"I see."

They were both silent for a while, and Edward felt that it fell on him to begin again, and so he did, trying to lighten the mood he had so thoroughly ruined a moment before, saying, "His preoccupation for his friends does him credit."

"That it does, though one could find it in oneself to wish he did not feel it so necessary."

"One certainly could. Why does he find it so, I wonder?" Edward could not resist the temptation of asking.

"One could suppose he has often seen his friends out of undesired entanglements." Bingley's words were carefully spoken.

"So Darcy's care_ is_ necessary after all."

"Well, the undesirability of any thing is, in the end, a matter of subjective opinion."

"So, the friends find themselves regretting having heeded Darcy's advice?" Edward knew his tone to be mild, but he felt anything but.

"No! Of course not!" Bingley seemed to panic in his search for the right words. "I never—his friends never would have heeded it in the first place if they would have not thought his advice sound. It is more a problem of Darcy's thinking that it is never a good time for being married. So his standards, however sound, are rather high for both himself and for his friends."

Edward thought on this information a little, and realized it came as no surprise at all.

A moment later, and he could not avoid smirking while he said, "I hope he approves of my sister, then."

Bingley sat up straight. "I certainly could not care less!" Afterwards, even he seemed surprised for his outburst.

"Not even a bit? Why is that?" Edward knew he sounded amused, a faint echo of his father, but he could not only hope Bingley would not be offended, as it was beyond him to change it.

"She is… come, Bennet, you cannot pretend you do not know it! She is an angel!"

"She certainly is. I am happy _you_ are aware of it."

"How could I not? I may not be the most brilliant fellow, but you cannot think me as deficient as that!"

"No," smiled Edward, "I do not think you deficient at all."

Bingley smiled in response, and sat back. "Well, I am glad."


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

**Chapter 11**

'_If the people in Meryton could see us now,_'thought Edward_, 'they would surely consider their sly remarks no longer necessary._'

Following the London trip, the Longbourn and Netherfield families found themselves closer than ever, and an alliance between them was expected, not too far away in the future, by the neighbourhood. However, they could get no confirmation from the Bennets, and no-one dared ask the lofty inhabitants of Netherfield. In the intimacy of the present situation, the conclusion of that affair seemed to Edward more than foregone.

He felt his skin tingle from his toes, ensconced in his Hessians, to his uncovered face. It could not be natural to sit so still, he was sure. The fire cracked and shifted in the hearth. Edward sighed and fidgeted.

"Are you tired, Edward?" asked Jane kindly from her place besides Bingley on the divan.

"Indeed, no-one told me having one's shadow made was so demanding of one's own patience. And I, unlike Bingley, do not have a beautiful lady willing to entertain me while I sit for it."

The comment surely garnered a blush from Jane, who had earlier read aloud from a comedy to Bingley, but Edward could not turn to see it. He had to content himself with Miss Bingley's offended sniff for all effect.

"Not every one appreciates the art of silhouettes; I personally find them a most delightful accomplishment," she said haughtily.

"Especially now that this pretty apparatus exists to make it easier," said Edward motioning towards the pantograph. "But I did not mean to disparage the activity by any means. I am not a patient person; that is all."

"Edward!" cried Jane, with a hint of _impatience_, herself. "Can you not stay still for one moment? Miss Bingley will never be able to make me your miniature if you move about like that."

"Of course I will stay still; I was only speaking."

"And flapping your arms," added Darcy with an amused smile, from his armchair by the fire.

"I was not!"

"You were, and now you moved your head. Really, Bennet, you must remain still if you want your likeness taken. Miss Bingley will tire of you in no time otherwise," was the leisurely response.

Edward wanted to retort that Miss Bingley had probably already tired of him anyway and was doing it only as a show of politeness toward his sister, but he thought better of it. He had always thought an air of offended dignity was better affected in silence.

"It is true that not _all_ have the patience to sit through it. Just the other summer I was asked to do Mr Harper's youngest's silhouette for his mother, and it was nearly impossible to keep him seated! It is no wonder really, at his age, and not in any way the boy's fault; I am sure he will grow out of it in no time."

Edward did not have to see her face to see her smirk; he could just as well picture it in his mind. He almost had to bite his tongue to avoid answering. Nothing he could think of saying was polite enough, or sharp enough, for his tastes. He could only try to concentrate all his will in not moving one hair from its place. A moment later he heard Miss Bingley's voice again. "There we are. I have finished. Are you sure you do not want your silhouette taken for your sister, Mr. Darcy?"

"I thank you for the offer, but she has various likenesses already."

Edward got up and stretched his limbs gratefully. It was already winter and outside the weather was as bleak as ever. It had begun to snow, and the room was wrapped in the warm light of the fire and the less than customary lamps in concession to the ladies' silhouette taking endeavour.

Edward and Jane had been invited to stay at Netherfield after the card party, in consideration of the late hours the party was sure to keep and of the inclement weather; and so they were passing the time before bed in the drawing room. The general mood was rather subdued.

Mr. Hurst snored on a settee in a corner. Mrs. Hurst, after having apparently tired of commenting on her sister and friend's artistic ability, played solitaire somewhat distractedly by his side. Bingley and Jane were talking, apparently observing the proceeding; though Edward was sure they were more entertained by each other than by anything else in the room or outside of it.

Darcy sat by the fire, patently entertained by Edward's fidgeting. He was quieter than usual, and Edward wondered at the cause of this new muted, more restrained humour. Edward could not make him out, and though he was getting used to that feeling, he still could not like it one bit.

Darcy, for he was the only one who paid him enough attention, probably thought Edward was only feeling cooped up and tired of sitting still, but the reality, though it was influenced by those two facts, went beyond that. Edward had reached a decision in the last few days; the type of momentous decision that is better to take and act upon it almost at once, so as not to allow time for one's will to waver. He felt the danger of it exceedingly.

He had come to it quite unexpectedly whilst thinking on his discussion of Darcy with Bingley during the London trip. Thinking on what to tell Darcy of the entail business, he had suddenly realized that if he _could_ and perhaps even _should_ tell anyone the whole mess, it was Darcy. They were friends, perhaps even more than simply friends.

After not thinking about it for so many years (at least not actively), after not talking about it, he felt it was the worst of impostures to keep Darcy in the dark. If he understood Darcy's character at all, he would not take it well. Still, the possibility that he might discover it by any other means was dreadful. It was not impossible, Edward knew; the more time they spent together, the more he risked.

If he had had only this concern weighing on his mind, Edward might have been able to forbear, but urgent business drove him forward. Edward's father had tried to reinitiate the discussion about Edward's future more than once. Only his frequent calls with his neighbours and some rather opportune business had allowed Edward to avoid the topic. His father, it seemed, was determined.

Edward had no desire of changing his lifestyle in any way. Why would he? The only thing that kept him from facing his father again and deciding the matter once and for all was that he was not entirely sure exactly why his father was making such a deal of it _now_. He always had been happy to leave things as they were, why change his mind now? Even taking his words at face value, why did his father not believe him or trust him to know his own mind?

He needed advice from a sane, somewhat objective person; someone whom he could respect, and whose opinion, and discretion, he could therefore trust. Although some months ago he could not have guessed it, Darcy was in every respect suited to the task.

No sooner had he arrived at that conclusion than it seemed as if he could not get one moment alone with Darcy; or when they were alone, the situation would not be conducive to confidences. Such an intimate house party should have created plenty of opportunities, but it had not. Edward was sure that if he did not speak that very same day, he would never speak of it–to _anyone_ besides his father–again. He was sure to lose his nerve momentarily.

A little while later Jane covered a delicate yawn and announced she was going to retire. She was followed by almost everyone else, each of them expressing as they went, how much the day had worn them out. Edward felt the exact opposite: he was full of restless energy. The prospect of trying to sleep was not agreeable in the least. Fortunately, it seemed far from Darcy's mind as well, since he had not moved from his armchair. He had even dismissed Bingley with a vague gesture, saying he did not need company besides that of the fire.

As the others filed out, Edward went to the chair next to Darcy's. He could not be still. Pacing by the fireplace did not help to calm him, but had rather the opposite effect. Suddenly though, his next action seemed obvious.

"What do you say to a game of billiards, Darcy? I cannot sleep either."

"Of course, if you want one."

Darcy's tone was not unfriendly, but seemed nonetheless unenthusiastic.

Edward could not let himself be deterred by that. He knew he could wait forever for the perfect moment and it would never come.

They went into the billiard's room in silence, got rid of their coats, and strung. To his surprise, Edward's ball hit the top and came back to almost touching the baulk cushion. He chose the spotted ball and decided to break. His careless following shot let the balls in a prime position, but he could only cede the place to Darcy with a grimace. He was not there to win a game after all.

A silence only interrupted by the methodical clack of the balls covered them and Edward was glad to suddenly spot the brandy decanter on a little table by the wall. It was most convenient. He offered and poured a glass for Darcy before serving himself. Afterwards, the silence fell over them again like a blanket.

Gazing at the table unseeingly, he wondered why Darcy was being so stubbornly silent. He wondered if he was to be condemned to be always at a loss for words in his presence. He emptied his glass in one gulp, the liquid burning his way down to his stomach, and served himself another; a look showed that Darcy's was still more than half full. It also showed that his friend, in between shots, was watching him curiously.

Finally, Edward could wait no more and begun, "My business in London went without a hitch."

"I'm pleased for you," said Darcy in a noncommittal tone, looking back at the table.

"Yes, the solicitors were quite helpful, and the proceedings went as predicted."

"Mmh" Darcy appeared concentrated in the positions of the balls, and his demeanour could not be more distracted, Edward was sure.

"I met your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam at Angelo's." As he had expected, this garnered some attention.

Darcy looked at him from where he was leaning to make a shot. "Did you, now? How did you find him? And how do you like Angelo's? I did not know you fenced."

"I found him very much the gentleman. We only spoke for a moment, though."

Edward contemplated saying that he thought the Colonel talked rather too much, and said things he perhaps ought not, but dismissed it at once. He did not want to start trouble between Darcy and his cousin, and it was beside the point.

"I do not fence as such, I only know the basics," he added instead.

"A shame I have not my practice blades with me then, or we would both get some exercise."

Darcy's attention was again fully into making his shot. He was, apparently, uninterested in making conversation.

Edward felt tempted to sulk; what a difficult man! Nothing but forthrightness would do, clearly, so he said, "Bingley said you wanted to know what business I had in London."

Darcy's shot went off course then, and it was Edward's turn again.

Darcy's tone was indifferent. "Really? I am not averse to knowing, of course."

"Of course."

Two could play that game, Edward was well aware, but he had no interest in ducking questions and raising Darcy's expectation of the answers. He wanted a good angle from which to impart specific information and his friend was not being helpful at all.

"I went to pick up the deeds of Longbourn land. It is—it was, I should say—entailed, and we had to do a common recovery proceeding to liberate it."

Darcy's interest was finally fully raised, and his tone was one of worry when he asked, "Do you need money? I mean, I should not ask, but I hope I need not remind you I am your friend."

Edward could not help smiling at this, and his shot was a happy one. (Winning hazards, no less.) Indeed, he did not need any reminder; that was the reason behind this whole convoluted mess of a conversation.

"No, no need to preoccupy yourself with this, Darcy. Longbourn and I are in excellent financial condition. But I have a sister whose only future is marrying well; like every other lady she must have a good dowry." He made an involuntary pause. "And then, there is Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth?"

Edward's next shot showed that his luck was at an end. He yielded the turn to Darcy, and went to the table where his glass awaited him.

"I told you about her before, while Jane was ill."

"Oh, I had forgotten."

"So had I, for a moment," said Edward, not without humour. At a loss how to continue, Edward stared at the amber liquid, its surface trembling slightly against the glass. No sound issued from the billiard's table for a long moment

"Is something the matter with your sister, Bennet?" Darcy sounded tentative, as if he suspected he was stepping on not quite solid ground.

Edward looked up.

"Jane? No, of course not, she is perfectly well, have you not seen her?"

"No, I mean your other sister."

"Yes…No…It is more complicated than that."

He could only turn his gaze to the fire.

"I am all ears, if you need to speak of it."

"Of course."

Another lengthy silence followed. Darcy was on another winning streak. It was the perfect opportunity, the perfect occasion to say whatever he wanted, but Edward could not find where to begin. He wished Darcy were not so understanding, or perhaps not so _silently_ understanding. He wished to be questioned, to be able to delegate the responsibility of finding the logical path of disclosure. Every new start cost him more.

"Remember what we were talking about the other day, Darcy? About marriage and women not being independent?"

Darcy readily assented, barely raising his eyes from his cue, though his expression betrayed his confusion.

"I am… perhaps I feel the matter more because it concerns me." The words trailed off. They did not want to be said, Edward was sure. They stuck in his throat and refused to be paraded in front of the light of the fire. He had to drink a little, to moisten his suddenly dry mouth.

"And, by that, I mean, _personally_."

Darcy only stood back with the cue held vertically at his side, watched, and waited. It only served to heighten Edward's discomfiture. When he begun again, it was in a deceptively light tone, "You know what they say, Darcy? That not every man is a gentleman?"

Edward was now resting his weight on the wall, both hands holding the port glass as if hanging on for dear life, staring intensely into the wall opposite him, but he could not avoid turning to look and see how Darcy was taking it.

"I cannot say I have heard it, but it certainly seems an accurate observation."

His words seemed to take the change of subject in stride, but his eyebrows were raised questioningly.

"I… What would you say if I were to tell you that not every gentleman is a man?" And he hurried on, to keep on talking, as Darcy had opened his mouth to speak in what seemed total confusion. "What would you say if a friend of yours—dash it all, this is ridiculous—if _I_ were to tell you that I am a woman and not a man at all?"

"What would I say…" Darcy's voice trailed off, and he closed his mouth. His face was expressionless; it did not seem that he was about to speak again any time soon, so Edward felt it his duty to continue.

"I am, you know, a woman. I am Elizabeth. Edward, my brother, died not much later than my mother. My father took pains to hide it, of course, and made up the story about relatives wanting children; though he did not make up my uncle, only that they are raising any child of his. It is all because of the entail. My father felt it exceedingly that he, on top of being deprived of his wife—he loved her very much, you see—could not leave his home to his children, by a trick of fate. If I would have died, for example, instead of my brother…"

Edward stopped and pushed himself off the wall. Without his voice ringing nonsensically, the room was very silent again, except that now, those words were left to swim in it, and turn it into an oppressive silence instead of a comfortable one.

It suddenly struck him most forcefully. If he, if _she_, would have… How strange, what would have been the difference? Had not Elizabeth died after all? To say that he, that _she_, was Elizabeth, was not that a lie as well? He took a gulp from his glass and stared into it.

"But, then, that is not right, either, is it? In nearly all respects, I _am_ Edward. And it is Elizabeth who died. Only now, for some reason my father begins to regret his decision. He begins to talk of settling Longbourn on the girls. And what am I to do with _that_? Truly, Darcy, I know this must be a rather unexpected shock, but I am in need of advice."

Talking to his glass, Edward missed the moment Darcy left the billiard table. When he came to, his friend was standing in front of the fireplace, a fist covering his mouth, his back to him. His cue lay abandoned carelessly by the wall. He did not appear to be angry, but then, when had Darcy ever been obvious with his feelings? Edward did not have Bingley's experience to be able to interpret them effortlessly; it was like trying to divine the thoughts of a statue.

Edward could only wait. More words would have been useless, unless Darcy wanted an explanation, and for now he seemed content to think about it in silence. The moment stretched on forever for Edward. He downed his glass, and could only stare at it again until he heard Darcy's voice.

"Am I to understand, then, that you have been deceiving us all this time, Mr. Bennet?"

"Miss, if you please," answered Edward, but even to his own ears it sounded a weak attempt at humour.

"Is that how you would prefer to be addressed by me from now on?"

Darcy's tone was acid, his back unyielding.

"I… You know that I would not, Darcy. 'Tis true that I am not exactly the man you thought me—not a man at all, actually—but I am unchanged in every other regard; I am every bit as I have always been."

"Why say anything at all, then?" asked Darcy, turning to look at him at last, but his tone was more resentful than curious, his eyes glinting cold and hard. Edward straightened up to his full height and gestured with his now empty glass.

"Because you are my friend, my best friend, and as such I thought you ought to know." He tried to smile, and added, "Bingley said to me that you were quite disposed to offering advice to your friends whether they wanted it or not. Well, I need it."

"That is all very well, but it does not belie the fact that all this," he gestured vaguely at Edward, "is merely playacting."

"Our friendship is not playacting," said Edward seriously, "at least not on my part. I am who I am now; I was raised this way, Darcy. I did not choose it."

"You will excuse my incredulity on both accounts, I hope, _Madam_."

The pause lengthened into a dreadful, heavy silence, and Edward could not meet Darcy's eyes. It was Darcy who finally spoke again, "if you will excuse me, I will retire."

And then, under Edward's now helpless gaze, he turned, bowed briefly, and went out.

Sleep that night proved impossible.

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**A/N:** So here we are. All is known now, no? Come on, which of you had already guessed? Spill. :) The good news is that the last chapter (17) is written, so it's now really a matter of editing to post here. Thanks to my betas Heather and Julie, and to those of you that reviewed!


	12. Chapter 12

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**Chapter 12**

The next day, when Edward finally gave up trying to sleep and arose from bed, Darcy was nowhere to be found. He had apparently gone riding, leaving no word of when he would be back, and so it was that Edward and Jane departed to Longbourn without having seen him.

The two occupants of the carriage were too preoccupied with their own thoughts to have any conversation; one gazing dreamily out a window, the other, inescapably introspective. There was nothing to stop Edward from thinking about the previous evening's confrontation with Darcy, nothing that could distract him from dissecting every word spoken by either of them, nothing to divert him from tasting the bile that rose equally at the memory of his own naiveté and at Darcy's response.

Edward's feelings could not be expected to improve with his return to Longbourn. It was no longer a sanctuary, no longer a place where he could be himself. His father, for the longest time the only person who completely understood him, could not fill that void now; in truth, he had not filled it for some time.

All too soon, they were at home. He had to descend the carriage, hand Jane down, and walk to the door with a smile, as if his boots did not weigh impossible tons each. He could not believe his luck when he spied one of the footmen going around the corner of the house to replenish the dwindling stocks of firewood, and lost not one moment in sending him away and, coat discarded, taking charge of the task himself. His father's questioning eyes could wait; he had no desire to face them.

Now, instead of succour, this former ally presented only the danger of his keen mind and quick perceptions. Mr. Bennet, even though in all probability unable to figure out the reason for Edward's recent oppression of spirit, was undoubtedly capable of using that apparent weakness to press the fitness of his own plan for Edward's life, as if the whole mess had not been his idea to begin with. He acted as if now, turning back presented only the logistical problems of the disappearance of one personae and the appearance of another; of just changing costumes behind a curtain, as it were.

It was not so, it was so clearly not so to Edward, that his mind could not wrap around the idea of his father—of his own dear father and mentor—knowing him so little. It was only then, after the dreadful discussion with Darcy, that he saw his father's words in that light.

The crack of the wood as it splinted marked a hypnotizing rhythm, and Edward fell under its spell with practiced ease.

"Deceit," he had called it. "My child, you are not made to endure such a deceit throughout your whole life," he had said. And Edward, focused on his father's other arguments, had not remarked on it, had dismissed it as so many empty words. But, had he not coped more than ably until that moment? Then again, was not that what everyone would think; every single person who would somehow come across the truth from here on out? Deceit…Was not that what Darcy thought as well?

The axe was pleasantly heavy in his arms, the task barely demanding at first. The only drawback was that his mind was free to roam, and his thoughts refused to let themselves be burned out in the concentrated heat of the activity.

The accusation smarted more than he could have thought it would, and surprisingly, it hurt as much coming from Darcy as from his father.

The axe sunk with a satisfying sound into the wood; sweat was beginning to pool on his brow and underarms, cold air almost freezing it as soon as it sprang.

He had thought, at one time contemplating full disclosure, that Jane would not be like that, would not think that his whole life had been a disguise, an elaborate prank, but now, he could not vouch for it. He had thought Darcy, and even his father, would be sympathetic, but they had not behaved as expected. Would Jane think all his life a lie? He would not, _could not_, risk it.

All too soon there was a sufficiently big pile and he had to collect his coat and enter the house. His dishevelled state was good enough excuse to allow him to retire upstairs immediately, but he knew that he would have to face his father by at dinnertime.

And indeed he did, his father entertaining them with his customary dry wit. There was the observation that he was glad to have them home, that he hoped the trip had not tired them, that he expected Longbourn to be too dull indeed for two such ones as themselves, used to the company of the voluble personalities of their neighbours at Netherfield. Edward tried to answer each with an observation of his own, with a smile, but the effort tired him. It had never cost him so much to be merry.

His refuge then was the oftentimes hated day-to-day business of the estate, which had lately showed a tendency to accumulate that he could now exploit. And in that manner he kept himself busy and retired early pleading fatigue.

Such was his strategy for some days. That it was a temporary one could not be denied, for even estate matters are resolved at some point, and relatives aroused to curiosity by a normal person's sudden preoccupation with it. But Edward could not be faulted, he thought, if he left the future to the future's care for a little while; he did not want to preoccupy himself with what he would do if he was not able to bring himself out of his depression before Jane realized something was wrong with him. As it was, he could barely avoid his father's questioning looks for much longer. He did not want to think of the rest of the mess he was in.

The first news Edward had of Darcy was when Bingley, a couple of days later, came to call on Jane. Apparently a letter had come from Miss Darcy. In it, she urged her brother to spend the Yuletide in Derbyshire. Of course, Darcy was completely devoted to his sister and could not but yield to her desires.

He had, Bingley said, tried to convince him otherwise, suggesting that Darcy bring his sister to Netherfield, but Miss Darcy was by nature a very timid person, and her brother did not want to put her in an uncomfortable position. Darcy was not to be moved by any argument and was at the moment occupied with travel plans. He had, of course, vowed to call on the neighbourhood by the morrow, to take his leave before travelling to London from whence he would accompany Miss Darcy home.

Edward knew Darcy would not lie. He was equally sure that Darcy was avoiding his presence. He probably found it impossible to bring a younger, impressionable sister where she would be in contact with one such as Edward. If the damned revelation had been avoided, and _there_ Edward blamed himself, they would all have passed the season together, as Bingley regretted aloud, all grouped in such a charming party.

Knowing when to expect him, Edward managed to be away when Darcy came to say goodbye, deciding it was for the best. Both Darcy and he needed time to recuperate their equanimity, and he guessed that Darcy had made sure Bingley brought the message as a way of arranging that very thing.

From then on, and in the absence of his more restrained friend, Bingley was at Longbourn almost every day. Meryton's tongues wagged with such a fury, Edward thought it a wonder they did not catch fire.

Since it was him that Bingley visited, Edward could not avoid sitting in the drawing room with Jane and him. It was, he thought, more than it could be asked from anyone to endure: to be forced to spend time with two people who barely knew he existed when his mood was so dismal. The only good thing about the situation was that he was not forced to hide his feelings, as he was when his father was present.

A sudden silence made him look up at Bingley and Jane, who were both standing and looking at him in an inquiring fashion. Edward tried to remember if they had asked him anything, and when inevitably nothing came to mind, he tried to smile. He knew he had not been entirely successful when Jane frowned.

"Are you well, Edward? Perhaps we had better stay indoors today; you are very pale."

Relieved at the reprieve, as he now could guess they wanted him to chaperone them in a walk, Edward stood and answered as brightly as he could, "If I am pale, it is because I have stayed inside too much! No, let us go."

Jane was not appeased and protested, insisting, "But are you absolutely sure you are well? You seem distracted and are pale as a ghost."

"Of course, I am well. I was only absorbed in my own thoughts; not very polite, to be sure, but hardly a sign of illness."

"Let us walk the gardens, then. I know you do not want me to worry, but truly I would be calmer if we remained close to the house. Mr. Bingley will agree with me that you do not seem well."

A jest then sprung naturally to Edward's lips and he replied, "I am quite sure too that he will agree, but I doubt that _that_ has anything to do with my apparent health or lack thereof; he is quite unable to bring himself to disagree with you. I am fine, but of course we will do whatever the lady wants."

Of course, Bingley had no intention of disagreeing with such an eminently reasonable thing, and he said so with such enthusiasm that Jane could not but blush and be charmingly distracted.

They walked out, Edward soon lagging behind the couple, sure that they would appreciate it, but most of all wanting to be alone with his thoughts. His mind returned always to Darcy, evading any effort on his part to distract himself with other matters, and he could not decide if bitterness or regret were the most prominent of his feelings.

He wanted to purge himself of such thoughts by the time they returned to the house. Such an exploit, of course, sounded impossible, given what had recently passed between himself and his former friend, but he was not a person to enjoy dwelling on his sadness and so he was sure he could make himself happy again.

So distracted was he, that he had not seen the couple entering the walled wilderness that extended at one side of the house and wandered in himself not much time afterwards. He was then consequently startled out of his musings by the sight of Bingley on one knee in the soil, in front of Jane, who sat blushing on a bench. That Bingley was holding her gloved hands and even kissing them–fervently–was too much for Edward, who turned around with the intention of retiring as to avoid further embarrassment for all involved.

Alas, any hope of resolving the situation so discretely was dashed, when he turned around and his boots snapped a twig. The noise called the attention of the lovers back to their surroundings and their reluctant witness. At once, Jane blushed violently and stood up. Bingley, for his part, separated himself so quickly from Jane that he risked tripping over his own feet.

Looking away, Edward vacillated. He could not really go away now that he had been seen, but then again he could not stay either. He turned back at them and just when the silence threatened to become unsupportable, Bingley turned to Jane. They exchanged a few words that Edward could not make out (not that Edward had any real desire to hear them, mind), and after tipping his hat to Edward with a smile, Bingley set out in a brisk walk toward the house, while Jane went to her brother.

Edward could not help smiling, perhaps his first easy, unforced smile in some days, at the expression of unmitigated delight that he found upon his sister's face.

"So I take it," he said, "that I may speak of a wedding in the offing without being a dreadful teasing brother?"

She was still blushing, all smiles. "Yes, he has proposed!"

"And I take it you have accepted. I suspected as much." Then, seeing his sister's flushed countenance, Edward could not help gesturing to the now empty bank and adding with a smirk, "Otherwise that would have been a dreadful breach of propriety, and I cannot see you standing it."

Jane turned redder, if that was even possible.

"I am so happy! It is too much, I do not deserve so much happiness," she said, undoubtedly trying to ignore his gibe, and embracing him.

"Nonsense! You deserve that much and more, and I do not doubt your felicity can only increase from now on. Bingley is an excellent man; I do not feel any reserve in trusting him and you with your happiness."

"He has gone to see my father already. He is the best of men!"

"_The_ best? And so it goes that the brother is relegated to second place so easily; for I hope I have second place at the very least. But do not correct yourself, what is said is said. He _is_ the best of men, and I could not countenance giving you up to anyone less deserving."

"Oh Edward," said Jane, looking at him in the eyes, "how I wish everyone could be as happy as I am."

Her tone was wistful.

"No one can be as happy as you, Jane; we do not dare. Until we have your goodness, we cannot have your happiness."

She looked down for a moment, and when she raised her eyes to meet Edward's again, her expression was serious.

"You can jest as much as you like; I have noted your humour lately."

"My humour? I have been occupied with boring subjects lately, but not even you can believe that the normal business matters of the estate can bring to gentlemen a fit of sudden dejection."

"Indeed, I am not saying anything like it. I am not claiming I know what is oppressing you."

"Nothing is oppressing me, Jane. I have been busy, and perhaps that is making me rather uncharacteristically serious, but it is nothing your and your betrothed's merry company will not cure."

"Your friend has gone away, too," she said. And suddenly her eyes on his face felt too keen, too knowledgeable for Edward's tastes. He had to take a step back from her and force a smile before he felt equal to answering.

"He is, but I am sure we will see him soon." The lie was easier to tell than he expected it to be, and Jane appeared satisfied with the answer. She threaded her arm with his and said, "Well, then, let us enter the house."

When she spoke again she was looking elsewhere and so she made it impossible for Edward to learn her expression. "Miss Bingley was sad to see him go, though not as much as she would have been before, I think."

"Less than before? Why would she?"

"Why? Because she now has other friends in the neighbourhood to entertain her even when one goes away, of course."

Edward could now see the faintest of smiles hovering at the corners of her lips.

"Ah, that is perhaps understandable. You are a very good friend to her."

His tone was unconvinced, but he did nothing to change it. He still did not know what to think of the nature of such a friendship, the characters of its members were so dissimilar. Jane was goodness personified, while Miss Bingley… the less thought about her character the better. Jane's next question made that plan impossible.

"And so, Edward, what do you think of Miss Bingley?"

Edward felt entitled to some suspicion. "I do not think of her. What about her?"

"Well, she is to be my sister and you are my brother. I cannot help but realize that you will be thrown into company more than ever after my marriage."

"The thought has crossed my mind," said Edward, with a tone as level as he could make it.

"Anyone would say you do not get on so well, arguing every time you happen to be in the same room."

Edward looked at Jane. Only her twitching lips gave away her amusement.

"And I would say they would not be wrong," he answered, and continued in a final tone to forestall any more discussion on the matter, "but do not worry, I will take care of comporting myself with the utmost politeness towards her in the future. She will be your family very soon, after all."

Jane beamed, patted his arm, and only said, "Of course you will, Edward," before entering the house.

As it was perhaps to be expected, Mr. Bennet gave not only his consent but his blessing to the marriage, and a date was settled not three months from then, in the spring equinox.

That same afternoon, Longbourn received Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley's visit. They stormed into the house and were settled in the drawing room in moments, without giving Edward time to escape. They came to congratulate Jane, and to make the final arrangement of the journey to town that was 'absolutely necessary', in Miss Bingley's own words, to outfit Jane for her future as Bingley's wife. It was apparently very important that she ordered her trousseau in town. Miss Bingley knew 'just the _modiste_ to do Jane's beauty justice'.

The decision to travel to town forthwith was taken with barely enough time for Jane to admit that she did look forward to the outing, and without Edward's opinion being requested at all. He would not have minded it overmuch if he had not known he would be required to escort the ladies. As it was, he could not demure after his sister had expressed the wish to go. He could not find it in himself to deny her anything.

Nevertheless, the conversation bored him, and he could only follow it with half a mind. The moment he deemed them sufficiently distracted he went to the window as a step before escaping. He could not plead estate business when he knew Jane wanted him to feel part of the proceedings. She clearly had the idea that he would feel excluded if not consulted for every decision.

It followed the enumeration of every purchase that needed to be made and the discussion of every particular fabric and cut, in or out of fashion. Edward, who had grown up giving his opinion to Jane over almost all matters, including her clothes, did not hesitate to do so when he felt like it, to Miss Bingley's astonishment.

He intervened from time to time, barely turning from the window, sarcastic more often than not, entertaining himself with what was at hand; wishing himself away yet at the same time knowing he would not go until he could perceive Jane would not be offended when he did so.

"Not many gentlemen understand feminine fashion and are disposed to discuss their opinions of it at length!" said Miss Bingley, surprised he had a decided opinion on the colour of his sister's gown.

"i_Length_/i is a relative term. What more can be said about it after I clarified my opinion? The decision rests with Jane, and discussion would lead us nowhere; half the world does not understand the taste of the other half."

"Well, I certainly do not think that fashion is solely a subject of personal opinion. Individual styles are all very well, but they cannot be fashionable if they do not follow some general guidelines!" and then she smiled, mischievously, and added, "But you are right on one account, discussion would lead us nowhere; strange as it must seem to you, I happen to agree with you. A white dress would be perfect for the wedding."

At a loss, Edward could only look away, muttering, "Of course," and hope all attention would soon be turned elsewhere. He did not understand Miss Bingley's sudden amiability, and consequently, could not like it.

Perceiving himself now under Jane's watchful and somewhat mocking gaze, Edward strove to behave in a spotless manner. He was, he knew, only barely amiable, and the best he could try was to be for the most part silent. He did what he could to be unnoticed, but Miss Bingley made it almost impossible.

"Oh, Jane, do you really think so? Coquelicot is a very nice colour, and suits someone like Mrs Hurst very well, but I do not think it would favour your more delicate complexion at all. Let us ask your brother," and Miss Bingley, raising her eyes, called Edward, who was still looking out the window. "Mr. Bennet, do you not agree with me? A pale pink, or blue, would suit your sister much better."

Edward turned around, and stalled a little on what to say. It was disconcerting that Miss Bingley would make his task of being polite to her so easy; it quite robbed him of speech.

"Of course, I… Jane, perhaps you could have a ball gown of that colour, if you like it so—I'm thinking with gold trimmings it could be quite magnificent—but I agree that a sedate hue would be more flattering to your complexion."

"You are both right," said Jane, smiling a little. "Of course. I just saw how lovely the colour was on Miss Bingley the other evening, and I could not help but like it. Was she not lovely, Edward?"

Miss Bingley's face turned just a shade darker, and she looked at him.

Edward threw Jane a sharp look and muttered, "Of course." He was a little rattled, because he had just remembered from where he had extracted the idea of the golden trimmings, and turned to the window again.

All in all, the call was concluded with impeccable manners from all parties involved, and somewhat improved amiability from some. By the next day, Edward was actively attempting to distract himself again, or at the very least to rouse himself from his well of self pity and depression. He had long ago discovered that walks, especially long and rapid ones, tended to tire him, and that so tired, his thought process could not go beyond the day to day concerns.

And so he went, early morning after early morning after troubled night. He could soon deceive himself into thinking he had forgotten all about his erstwhile friend, and he could not bring himself to regret missing his call to take leave of the neighbour. All was well, he decided. Life could go on as it had done before he even knew a Mr. Darcy existed.

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**A/N**: As always, thanks to my betas and thanks to all of you that commented. As I wrote in my profile, I wont update this story here anymore for now. (I'm busy with other things.) However, don't dispair, there is a link to the story on an open archive. (In my profile.) I did that a couple of days ago, but now after receiving another review asking for an update, I realize most of you wont have seen it. (Yeah, I'm dumb.) OK, there it is. Go and read the ending all at once. ;)

Love, hele.

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